Legend of Zayden: Nerevar Rising
by ParadoxBattleZone
Summary: An Imperial, with no past and no future, is sent to a foreign land with the vaguest whispers of a prophecy to lead his way, for he has been chosen by fate to right an ages old wrong and free the land from a long lingering doom.
1. Awakening

**Legend of Zayden: Nerevar Rising**

Chapter 1: Awakening

Whether dream or reality, his first memory is one of torment…

He awoke in a numbed state. He felt nothing, his mind a clouded soup and all senses lost to him. He only knew that he was alive and breathing. Slowly his senses began to come back… The air smelled and tasted of dirt. Wind blew stinging sand against his face and body. It howled like a siren of Oblivion. When the man finally regained sight he was immediately blinded from the swirling dust. He was only able to see for a brief second, but all around him was blood red skies.

With his eyes now shut tight he rolled over and crawled to his feet on shaking limbs. The sand felt like it was constantly shifting beneath his feet. Once more he opened his eyes and attempted to see, this time using his hands to shield some of the winds. It helped just well enough to see through the storm. Around him all he could see was the same maddening blood red haze, whipped up in a frenzy by furious winds.

The sand began to move faster. Standing now became a constant struggle. Once he had managed a moment of stability he stepped forward into the fog of the unknown. He knew not in what direction he was heading, nor toward what. He only hoped more steady ground lay ahead. He drudged onward, legs made from jelly growing ever weaker and exhausted. Visibility could not have been any more than a couple of meters. There was absolutely nothing to know one's location with. Such a place could truly drive a man-

ACCEPT YOUR PUNISHMENT

… mad.

A voice ripped through both the air and the man. The man spun about to see who had spoken. No one else was around. No one close enough to see. The man licked his parched lips and tongue and thought for a moment if he was hallucinating. The sand was now beginning to firm up. He could now travel with greater-

MOON AND STAR SHALL FALL FROM GRACE

The voice now sounded closer. It chilled the man's heart to ice and immediately dropped him back to his knees His limbs began to shake once more, now not from exhaustion, but from fear. To hear the voice again would-

WHAT WAS OF THE PAST SHALL BE RECTIFIED

HE OF THE MOUNTAIN SHALL RISE AND SPREAD

ALL OTHER GODS SHALL FALL IN HIS WAKE

THIS WORLD WILL KNOW UR

Tears filled the man's eyes, mixing with the flying sand and blinding him once again. A dull pain washed over him that rendered him helpless and without any strength. He howled from an anguish unlike any he had felt before, and he knew in that moment it was caused solely from the voice itself. The man fell forward and plunged his face into the sand, filling his mouth and eyes. Further and further down he pushed. Maybe, he thought, if he could suffocate and kill himself, his torment would end. It would be worth it to stop it all, if only for a moment. He gasped for the air he denied himself.

He now begged for death. Welcomed it.

Let it all end.

Please...

The man felt a hand grab the back of his neck. It violently lifted him up back to his knees. He now gasped for breath, coughing up sand and unsuccessfully blinking it from his eyes. He could now just barely make out a human-like figure before him. It reached out and gently brushed more of the sand and tears from his eyes but the man could still not see clearly. The figure spoke to him.

YOUR DEATH SHALL COME BECAUSE IT IS JUST

The figure gently reached out with thin, dagger fingers to touch the man in the center of the chest. With effortless ease the hand plunged into the man's chest. The man made one sharp gasp from the pain but otherwise remained motionless and silent.

But as soon as the pain came it vanished. In its place was new numbness that flowed through the man's body. He blinked once and the world around him changed. Gone were the blistering sands and winds, the howls, and the figure with the dagger hands. In its place was a calming, golden dusk sky, a forest of slim impossibly tall trees, and the wafting of pollen in a gentle breeze. He looked down to see a carpet of fiery autumn leaves making a path forward to a small dell and a small pond a few meters ahead, its waters an odd greenish blue.

As soon as his eyes fell upon the water it began to slowly brighten and glow. It emitted a soft hum, like a mother's lullaby to their infant child. Then, from below the surface, a new figure began to rise. This one was a white silhouette, vaguely feminine in shape. It rose up through the water's undisturbed surface and above it until her toes hovered mere inches. Then, with an almost aquatic nature, the figure wafted forward toward the man, whose mind was still too emotionally shattered to let him say or do anything.

Gently, once within arm's reach, the figure raised a hand toward the man's face. He winced and braced for yet more pain but none came. He was only met with the silken caress of fingers against his cheek. He looked up to greet the silhouette with his gaze. Although it had no facial features to speak of, he felt as if it was smiling down at him.

Then the figure spoke.

THEY HAVE TAKEN YOU FROM THE IMPERIAL CITY'S PRISON

FIRST BY CARRIAGE, NOW BY BOAT

TO THE EAST, TO MORROWIND

FEAR NOT, FOR I AM WATCHFUL

YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN

-o0o-

"Hey, wake up. Can you hear me? Is… Is he breathing? Wake up!"

The male Dunmer, hands shackled together at the wrist, reached forward and gently shook the unconscious Imperial lying lifelessly atop a row of crates. "Can you hear me?" the elf repeated. "Wake up!"

After one more prod the Imperial shot his eyes open, his panic stricken gaze immediately falling upon the person standing above him. The Dunmer (elves of gray skin and red eyes) reeled back in surprise but firmly kept the gaze of his one unbandaged eye on the Imperial. The elf breathed a quick sigh of relief.

"Good, you're awake," he said, bending down to his knees. "You're sweating like crazy. Do you feel ok?"

The Imperial could not yet speak. He looked down at his arms and naked chest to see that he was indeed covered in beads of sweat. Then as his other senses came flooding back he felt that his skin was clammy and cold, his arms and legs shook, and his mouth felt bone dry. The man attempted to mouth the word "water" and after a few failed attempts the elf left and returned with a flagon. The man gulped it down fast and quickly drank a second.

With throat now wet the man could finally speak "Who… are you?" the Imperial asked the elf. The elf came back with a third, larger flagon of water.

"Jiub," he replied. "What is yours?"

The man opened his mouth to reply but was struck silent. He did not know the answer to the question. He did not know his name. He did not know his name! The man closed his eyes and strained to remember but nothing came up. Nothing!

"I'm... not sure?" he finally replied.

"Hmm, you must be sicker than you look. How do you feel?"

"Not… good." He continued to try and remember anything: name, who he was, how he got here… But nothing came.

"Well, you have been asleep for quite a while, I could have guessed as much."

"How… long, exactly?"

"The entire length of the voyage, ever since they threw you onboard." He paused. "About a day and a half, I'd guess."

"W-What voyage?" the imperial stammered.

"To Vvardenfell," replied Jiub.

This was something the Imperial could remember. Vvardenfell was a large island and the main body of the Morrowind province, located in the northeast of the continent of Tamriel. The island itself was said to have split off from the mainland thousands of years ago after a particularly violent eruption of the landmass's massive volcano "Red Mountain." Since then, while still volcanically active, the island has remained safe to live upon for over fourth centuries.

But in spite of what the Imperial seemed to know- though he knew not how he knew it- a nagging feeling in his stomach told him that this place, Vvardenfell, was foreign. This was not his homeland. What was his motherland was yet another mystery.

"Why are we going to Vvardenfell?" the Imperial asked.

Jiub gave a small, grave cohort. "This is a prison boat. We're somewhere in the stern, below deck. We're all prisoners here. Even you, probably." The Imperial's eyes widened a bit. "I'd ask what you're in for, but that, it seems, would be pointless."

The man nodded. "What about you?" he then asked the elf.

Without a moment's hesitation, the elf replied. "Murder." Again, the Imperial's eyes widened. "A lot of murder, actually. For skooma." The Imperial could not remember what skooma was but remained silent. "Bit off more than I could chew one day and, well, here I am. Lost one of my eyes for my trouble."

Feeling some of his strength returning, the man strained to prop himself upright and against a bulkhead. "Did you happen to hear what I was brought here for?" he asked Jiub.

Jiub shook his head. "No, not really. But I did notice that the guards that brought you down here were real 'stiffs.' No bullshit, straight to the point, no nonsense. Seems you got enemies in high places."

The Imperial wanted to say more, but his momentary strength was quickly slipping away from him. "I... I think I'm going to go back to sleep now."

The elf shrugged. "Sure, sure," he dismissed, getting back to his feet and heading to another group on the other side of the room. The Imperial laid back down and fell asleep mere seconds later.

-o0o-

When the Imperial awoke again it was to the loud stamp of a polearm on the floor in front of him. He looked up with a jolt to the sight of three armed guards standing before him, the one in the middle clad in finer armor.

"We've docked," the middle guard said, "and this is where you get off. Come with us and don't cause any trouble."

The Imperial looked around for Jiub. All the other prisoners in the hold were standing and had their backs pressed against the walls. Jiub stood against the opposite wall of the Imperial. He offered no more than a shrug and a warning. "Better do what they say..."

Upon still shaky legs the man rose to his feet and the two other guards bound his hands behind his back. The three then led the Imperial out of the small hold into the next room, a storage area full of burlap sacks and wooden crates. He was led the ship's entire length, up a steep narrow set of steps to the next deck, and back down the entire length again. This level was of crew living quarters, the walls lined with bunks. At the other end of the ship was another set of steps leading to a hatch.

One of the yet unspoken guards went ahead of the group, climbed the steps and opened the hatch, letting in a blinding stream of sunlight.

"Get yourself up on deck," said one of the other guards, "and let's keep this as civil as possible." He then gave the Imperial a strong shove forward and he climbed the steps to the top deck.

It took the Imperial several seconds to regain his vision but before he could he was already being led across a gang plank to a creaking dock that connected to the land. Before he and the guards got halfway down the dock, another soldier was there to meet them. By then the Imperial's eyes had adjusted and he could see.

"Here his is," said the first guard, handing the soldier a scroll. "The 'high priority.'"

The soldier took a moment to unfurl and read the document and, once satisfied, nodded back. "Very good," he replied, turning his gave to the man. "So you finally arrive." He then turned back to the three. "This document is incomplete. This man's name and place of birth are left blank!"

"We know, Sir," said the first guard. "We asked the same thing when he was given into our custody back in Stonefalls. No one would tell us, no matter how much we asked. I don't think they knew either." The soldier groaned and looked through the document again. "But Sir, he has an official seal. So it shouldn't matter if-"

"Don't insult me!" the soldier snapped. "You drake-a-day-rent-a-cop! I know very well what this seal means! I'm not fresh off the teat!"

The three guards stiffened in attention. "Yes, Sir!" the same guard shot back.

"Leave us! I'll take him from here." The three nodded at once, in unison, and headed back to the boat.

The soldier, rolling the scroll back up, walked behind the Imperial and grabbed him by his bound wrists. "Head forward into the census office," he commanded. "No sudden movements or you'll be in a world of hurt." The Imperial was pushed and led forward to a stone and plaster building, a plaque next to the door reading "Census and Excise Building."

Inside was a room full of stocked bookshelves where another pair of soldiers stood and, against the opposite wall, was a desk and an old Breton man standing behind it. He was dressed in a long, dirt brown robe and his hair was balding and white. The Imperial was led into the middle of the room in front of the desk and ordered to halt.

The first soldier walked past the man and handed the old man the scroll. He quickly reviewed it. "It's incomplete," the old man said to the soldier.

"Yes, Sir," said the soldier. "I said as much to the men on the ship and they said they were given no information on the prisoner as well. All they seemed to know was that he was indeed a 'high priority.'"

Unimpressed, the Breton with scroll in hand walked out from behind his desk and approached the Imperial. Their eyes met and he glared slightly down at him. "This document had no name," he stated. "Do you have a name, prisoner?"

The Imperial said nothing and was rewarded with a swift hit to the back by the soldier, knocking him to his knees. "Answer the census agent!" the soldier demanded.

The Imperial stood back up and managed a reply. "I don't know."

The Breton raised an eyebrow. "Don't know?" he asked. "Or won't tell us? Or maybe you were dropped on your head too many times as a child!?"

"I. Don't. Know. I don't know my name nor my homeland, my place of birth, my life before waking up on the ship! Nothing!"

The Breton reeled back slightly but maintained his stare. "Keep your temper when speaking to me, Imperial!" he snapped. He mused for a moment before continuing further. "... But I think you are telling the truth."

"Thank you," the Imperial sighed.

The old man huffed and returned to his desk, taking a moment to look at the document again. "Destination: Balmora," he muttered aloud. "Very well then. Perhaps someone there will have answers." He rolled the document back up and placed it on the desk. "Correspondence will need to be sent to Balmora. I'll send out a courier by silt strider by dusk tonight. In the meantime, hold the prisoner in a cell."

"Yes Sir!" the soldier barked back, grabbing the Imperial by the binds again. "Forward, prisoner!"

The man was let out the room through another door, down a narrow hallway to an even narrower set of stone steps leading downward. They ended in another narrow, stone hallway with wooden doors on both the left and right every few feet. He was taken to the second to last door on the left, the door was unlocked, and the Imperial's hands were unbound before he was unceremoniously shoved in. The door shut behind him with a dull thud.

"Dinner is served in three hours," said the soldier as the lock clanked shut. "It may be a few days until correspondence comes back from Balmora. I suggest making yourself comfortable." He chuckled the last sentence as he turned and walked away. "And if you need to shit, give a yell. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut!"

The Imperial wanted to say something, scream something in protest, but could not find the strength to do so. He turned and took assessment at his new accommodations. The floor was covered in long, unsecure wooden boards. A small, barred hole near the ceiling bled in a beam of white daylight and a shallow, man-length pile of straw was the bed. The room was quite devoid of anything else.

Again the Imperial wanted to shout in anger, frustration, and confusion. It only seemed like a mere few hours ago he had awoken it was seemed another world without foreknowledge, allies, or anything but the clothes he wore. For the first time a feeling of helplessness washed over him, instantly replacing all anger and frustration. Now all the man wished to do was cry. So he retreated to the straw bed, laid himself down, curled himself up into a ball, and did just that until he fell asleep once again.

-o0o-

When the man awoke for the first time in his cell it was night. He looked around to see that a small, burning candle had been set up in the opposite corner next to a bowl of liquid with a spoon in it. A guard must had come as he slept and delivered the items. The Imperial crawled over to see that it was a thick beef and bean stew, now cold and a thin layer of congealed fat covering it. He scarfed down the meal regardless and not long after that he returned to his bed and sleep again.

When he awoke again it was morning and this time it was by a banging on the door. "Breakfast!" shouted a voice from the other side. "Against the far wall!" The Imperial clamored to his feet and did as instructed. A moment later the door opened and a plate of two hard-boiled eggs, a small bowl of soggy oats, an apple, and a flagon of water were lightly tossed in. Once the door was shut the starved man clamored over and once more ate his food with great speed.

When he finished eating and a guard came back to collect his utensils, he informed the Imperial that there was a respectable library back in the room he was first led into from the dock. If requested, he could have books brought to him to help pass the time. The Imperial took up the offer and asked for a "Guide of Vvardenfell." The guard grinned, knowing exactly what book to retrieve, and not long after came back with a single thick volume.

The Imperial wasted no time in looking through the heavy text. The book was fairly comprehensive, complete with maps and various local histories. His method in research was by no means methodical or meticulous. He spent much time hopping from subject to subject, using the index to search for words and phrases more than reading the articles themselves. Nevertheless he did so for hours.

His dedication to his reading, however, was just as haphazard as the method. For every one-third of time spent in reading two-thirds was spent spacing out and day dreaming on what he had just read. No matter his own personal will to learn, he could not bring himself to keep studying for any extended periods.

This continued into the evening and into the next morning and afternoon. By this time, the Imperial began to become aware of a growing uneasiness within himself. He quickly surmised that it was mostly due to his state of captivity and hunger, but he knew something else was at play. What it was he was not sure.

By dawn of the next day, coupled by his now persistent hunger, the Imperial's agitation had grown worse. He could still not exactly explain the source. It caused him to act needlessly hostile to the guard when he brought breakfast later than yesterday. His anger, however, was quickly doused when the guard gave a command.

"Eat and drink quickly," he barked. "Our courier has come back from Balmora. And I hear you are to be released soon." The Imperial ate quicker than he had the previous days and once finished was led back up the narrow stairs to the first room where the Breton stood waiting.

"Ah yes, we've been expecting you," he greeted. "We've received word from our informant in Balmora as to your purpose here in Vvardenfell. We cannot divulge too much here, but suffice to say that as of now, your status as prisoner has been officially revoked." A grin quickly swept over the Imperial's face.

"But make no mistake-!" added the Breton. The Imperial's smile vanished. "You are now under order by the Imperial Legion and failure to do as you are now instructed will be met by punishment of death." The old man paused to allow the threat to sink in. "You are to meet up with said informant in Balmora, by which time you will be under his command." The Breton reached in a drawer of his desk and retrieved the same scroll from before. "The informant has been tasked to send a letter to us if, after a week, you have not reported to him. If that happens, we will find you and put you to death." In spite of the old man's age, he spoke with a stern viciousness.

"Yes, Sir," said the Imperial with uneasiness. "Who am I to meet?"

"The document states as much," he replied. "When you arrive in Balmora, present your document to a guard and they will bring you where you need to go." He reached for a writing quill. "Now, before you can be officially released, you will have to be recorded. Your documentation is mostly in order with the exception of two crucial points: place-of-birth and name. We've taken the liberty of estimating your birthplace: northern Cyrodiil. You look like an Imperial but hold a slight Nord accent. This is the best we can do.

Now for your name. Let's try this again...What, Imperial, is your name?"

Again the Imperial paused and said nothing. The Breton groaned in frustration. "Unbelievable," he sighed. "You truly cannot remember your own name, can you!?" The Imperial shook his head. "Well our informant wishes to see you as soon as possible so if you cannot remember, you're just going to have to make one up!"

Before the Imperial had a chance to reply, a guard on looking in a corner of the room called out. "Give him an elven name, sir!" he called out. "Help him feel not too much like a stranger!" The other two guards in the room joined the first in a hardy, snarky chuckle.

The Breton remained unamused but pondered the thought for a brief moment. "Probably not a terrible idea," he thought aloud. "How about... Zayden, then?"

The guard that brought the Imperial back up the stairs cleared his throat. "Sir, I'm not sure that even is a real elven name."

"Close enough!" he snapped with impatience, scribing the name down onto the scroll. "Like I said, we haven't much time." Once finished and the ink dried he rolled it back up and handed it to the guard standing behind the Imperial. "Take this and 'Zayden' to the captain to officiate the release."

The guard took the document and barked back a curt "Yes, sir! Get moving, 'elf!'" The guards laughed once more as the Imperial was let out of the room and turned right, away from the hallway that led to the dungeon, and into an adjacent building.

Another Imperial man was waiting, standing behind a table covered with neat and orderly stacks of paper. "Gravius, sir!" the guard greeted, handing over the scroll. "The prisoner."

Gravius looked over the scroll impassively. "... Zayden?" he finally asked, looking to both the Imperial and the guard.

"It was Socucuis's idea," the guard.

"Hmm." Gravius smirked. "And I thought the old man lost all humor years ago... Very well." With a scrawl of an ink quill and a wax stamp the scroll was officiated. Gravius turned his direct attention to the Imperial.

"Listen well, 'Zayden.' You have been officially released from Imperial Legion custody. As of this moment, you are a free man." The guard behind the Imperial unbound his hands and Gravius handed the scroll to him. "That being said, according to this document, you have guidance from Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself."

The Imperial was stunned stiff. "The emperor?" he asked.

"Indeed. You have been tasked with meeting an informant in Balmora."

"Yes, I remember. It seems I have very little choice in the matter. If I refuse to meet up with him, I'll be killed. You have all made that quite clear." The Imperial's agitation was as strong as ever, and now on the cusp of freedom he wanted nothing more than the process to speed up.

"Indeed," Gravius repeated. "But that is the extent of your duties. Once that is complete, you will indeed be freed."

"Very well," the Imperial replied. He attempted to ask again who he was meeting. "Who is this informant then?"

His second attempt at finding out a name worked. "A man by the name of Caius Cosades. I cannot tell you exactly where to find him, but as far as I know, he is no stranger to the city. Ask around and someone is bound to tell you his whereabouts." Gravius turned around and opened a small chest on a shelf in the wall. After a moment of clanging metal he turned back with a small coin pouch.

"Soldier," he addressed the guard. "Take these funds and take Zayden to the trade house. Get him some clothes, supplies, and some weapons. Make sure there's enough for him to take a strider to Balmora. Once you're done, report back to me."

"Sir!" the guard called back. With one hand he took the coin pouch and with the other prodded Zayden to the opposite side of the room to another door that let, finally, to the outside world.

**[Author's Note] **This is a complete rewrite of a story of the same title, posted by me on this site by this profile years ago. If you enjoyed that story or were currently enjoying it, I have now since deleted it and am starting over. I apologize for any inconvenience. Looking back on the story I was unsatisfied by its quality and wanted, if for no other reason than my own personal satisfaction, rewrite the story and, with any hope, the other in the series and more. I hope you enjoy this new telling.


	2. The Lizard

Chapter 2: The Lizard

So steadfast in his duties was the guard that he did not give Zayden much time to take in his new surroundings. Once outside the Imperial Legion compound Zayden was led north down the main street of a sleepy fishing village. Apart from the legion compound and some stores, the short, squat buildings of this village were all constructed from cracking plaster and weathered, irregular pieces of wood. At this early hour few townsfolk were up and about. The few that were, as they passed by, gave brief uncaring glances at Zayden and the guard, as if this were all a regular sight.

"What town is this?" Zayden ventured to ask, the guard leading him by the shoulder.

"Seyda Neen," the guard answered firmly. Zayden vaguely remembered seeing the name in the guide he read. It was somewhere near the southern tip of the island. "Balmora is half a day's travel by strider. I'm taking you to Arrille's Tradehouse first to fit you with some basic supplies."

It took but a few minutes to get to their destination; a three story building near the outskirts of the village. Second only to the Imperial Legion compound, it was the most sturdily build thing in Seyda Neen. Zayden was briskly led into the dimly lit inside where a golden-skinned High Elf with a knot of dark red hair manned the counter.

A type of wordless exchange happened between the elf and Imperial. It seemed without any foreword, the elf knew of Zayden's status and what the guard needed to do. The guard approached the desk and lightly tossed the coin sack toward the elf. After a brief inspection the store owner gave the guard back a casual wave as if to say "Do what you must, but be quick about it."

And quick the guard was. He made a single sweep of the store's wears, snatching bits and items as he saw fit. After just after five minutes, items clutched in a large bundle in his arms, the guard returned to the front of the store. He quickly thanked the store owner then demanded Zayden to head back outside and around to the back of the building.

Once there, tucked away in a nook where less prying eyes existed, the guard tossed the mass of items and sundries to Zayden and barked yet another command. "Put it on! And hurry! The strider will be here soon." Zayden took no chances and immediately did as he was told, stripping naked and putting on everything the guard had purchased.

The guard had given his prisoner a seemingly standard ensemble: forest green short-sleeved shirt over a cream white long-sleeved shirt, similarly green hooded cloak of light wool that draped over the shoulders, tan slacks and brown, knee high boots of some type of leather. It all combined to give Zayden a well-prepared yet visually unremarkable appearance, which perhaps was the intention from the start. Along with the clothes came a leather satchel bag packed with items that, at the moment, Zayden had no time to examine.

Next came a weapon's harness: a leather bandolier that slung over the left shoulder and a belt that secured across the stomach. One the left side of Zayden's hip was a sheath that housed a two foot long short sword and on the right side was a shorter sheath that housed a one foot dagger. Across the chest were two more sheaths for a three inch and six inch knife. Only after dawning all the accoutrements did Zayden question aloud "Are all of these blades truly necessary?"

"Nonsense!" the guard spat back with a tinge of impatience. "No true adventurer would be caught in the wilds with anything less. You're being sent to a city, but I will not risk losing my position if I sent you at all underequipped. All set then?" Zayden nodded and was soon brought back out from behind the trade house and back up the road, heading north.

A half mile on the road forked and Zayden was led down the right path. It gently bended outward, eventually leading up a steep hill with a cliff face to the west. Built off the cliff edge was a dock supported on tall, unsecure beams of wood. Sitting at its end was another Dunmer male, this one wearing a wide straw hat.

The guard and the elf exchanged brief pleasantries before the former handed the latter a few coins. "Shouldn't be too long from now," the elf said after counting his money. "We have a silt strider coming from Vivec and heading to Balmora from here. Shouldn't be long now…" It wasn't another several minutes of waiting until the strider appeared from the south.

The silt strider was a giant insect creature with a body like that of a flea measuring thirty feet long. It stood upon tall, slender stilt legs twice the length of its body. With each slow step forward the pointed ends of the legs sunk into the soft coastal soil. The creature emitted a low grumble as it approached the dock and came to a stop.

The guard wasted no time pushing Zayden forward toward the beast, prompting him to climb aboard. His final parting words to Zayden were a reiteration of the threat from before: fail to meet with Caius Cosades in one week's time and he would be sought out and killed. Zayden doubted the death threat. He, as admitted from Gravius in the Census and Excise building, was tasked by the Emperor himself. No legion foot soldier with half a mind would butcher a servant of the Emperor… Unless such was the Emperor's orders as well…

Zayden took a seat atop the strider, putting as much distance between the guard and himself. The guard waited as a few more people arrived and boarded the beast. After twenty minutes had past the beast's master yelled out a "last call" and not long after, with a groan and a lurch forward, the strider was on its way.

The silt strider swayed slightly from left to right with each step of its six legs, drudging on at a pace like that of a jogging man. Zayden looked back at Seyda Neen as it took to a bend in the road, the sight disappearing behind a cliff face. Only once completely out of sight did he give a heavy sigh of relief. At least for the moment he was rid of his captors.

An odd dip in the ground caused the strider to rock hard to one side, causing Zayden to stumble and land awkwardly on one of his swords. This caused him to pause and rethink his "prisoner mentality." "No," he whispered aloud to himself, "no one arms a prisoner with weapons. And if what I think is true and they would never actually kill me, lest they incur the Emperor's wrath, then what is my purpose here? Why was I sent to this place I know not to be my home?"

Zayden thought back to what the guard said when he was putting on his weapons. No adventurer would be caught with anything less. Was that his purpose in this foreign land? To explore? But why would one need the Emperor's permission to do such a thing? Unless there was ulterior motive.

Zayden remembered the scroll document from earlier. He quickly took off his leather bag and fished it out. For a brief moment he contemplated opening it back up, seeing with his own eyes just what exactly the Emperor had preordained for him. But the scroll had been resealed with a fresh wax stamp and breaking it would probably not be appreciated by his contact, Caius. Zayden returned the document to the bag and proceeded to see what else he had been given.

While the satchel was mostly empty, there were a number of items within: a small coin pouch with the remainder of the funds, a tinder box and small bundle of wood, a length of rope, flint and steel set, whetstone, empty water skin, and a single ration of nuts and seeds. Indeed the guard was not lying when no true adventurer would be caught with less.

Zayden packed his bag back up and tossed it aside. "So they want me to live," Zayden once more mused, "that much is for sure. If a note from the Emperor wasn't enough, they supply me and arm me enough so I can survive, even if I'm on a one-way ride to another city…" And yet Zayden was no closer to knowing exactly why he was here than he was when he first woke up on in the ship's hold. Just reminding himself of this uncertainty brought back his linger agitation and his simmering anger began to swell back up. Zayden looked around him, at the other travelers atop the silt strider, as if they had the answers he was looking for. None seemed to give him so much as a glance.

Most of Zayden's fellow travelers were Dunmer and obvious natives to the land. All of them sat near the opposite end of the beast, clearly trying to keep their distance. The only other non-Dunmer was a hooded cloaked figure that sat closer to Zayden and furthest from the Dunmer. The person was seemingly engrossed in the rolling of large, flat brown leaves into a cigar with clawed, scaly fingers. Each press, fold, and tuck seemed well-practiced. After a few minutes the cigar seemed complete and the figure raised it up to smell it with a reptilian snout that stuck out from beneath the hood. An Argonian, it was.

Seemingly satisfied with its work, the Argonian lit the cigar and began to smoke. A cloud from the first few puffs wafted with a breeze and struck Zayden's nostrils. Zayden smelled the smoke as it passed by and it was like meeting an old friend. In an instant he understood what the lingering agitations from his first days in Vvardenfell stemmed from. This whole time he was suffering tobacco withdrawal and was completely unaware of it.

Zayden fumbled for a coin from his bag and cautiously slid over to the lizard person. "… Excuse me?" he said at length. The Argonian lifted his gaze with a startled breath. It was clear he was not expecting to be spoken to by anyone.

"Y-Yes?" the Argonian asked back. "What do you want?"

"I was hoping you had extra leaves to roll another cigar for myself. I can pay," he quickly added, holding out the single coin in view.

Again, the Argonian seemed nervous and confused by the turn of events. "You want to buy from me?" he asked. Zayden nodded back. "Well, I suppose I could. Just give me one moment…" All the supplies were already laid out so he put his lit cigar aside and began right away. Almost as soon as he began the tension on his face quickly melted away. "You are lucky. I bought these leaves just yesterday."

"Are you a tobacconist?" Zayden asked. "You make it look easy."

"No. An alchemist. I'm of magician rank in the Mages Guild of Black Marsh. I have a love for things that grow and their applications as ingredients."

"Seems to calm you down."

The Argonian never lift his gaze from his work, his voice now imbued with a tranquil smoothness. "In the Black Marsh, everything grows. Before all races of men and mer, there was the Hist, the ancient trees to which we worship. All that grows is to be worshiped. If it must be harvested or killed, we do so with reverence and thankfulness for what it provides. When I smoke, it is like ritual for me. Mindfulness, calm, stillness in life for a moment of time…"

The Argonian stopped and looked back up to Zayden to see the contorted confusion on his face. In an instant the lizard's nervous demeanor came rushing back. His shoulders tensed up. "I-I am sorry!" he quickly blurted out. "This must seem all very odd to you. To an Imperial, that is."

"What does me being an Imperial have to do with it?" Zayden asked.

Again the Argonian tensed up. "Well, not to make too many assumptions of your people, but…" He paused to pick his words carefully. "Imperials are the people of empires, not of nature. You would see a forest for its lumber and land, something to utilize." This Zayden could not find untrue. "My people would see the same thing as a place to live and survive within. As I said, everything grows in the Black Marsh, my homeland. Our entire lives are spent living alongside, and against, plants and growing things. One quickly learns to understand nature's mysteries or get swept up by them."

All of this seemed to Zayden like the talk of someone who has eaten too many herbs. He decided to shift the conversation. "So you are from Black Marsh, then?" Zayden asked. He knew where the continent was in reference to where they were in Vvardenfell: south of the Morrowind mainland. The entire province is, as its name implies, dense swamp and rain forest. "What brings you here, then?" he then asked.

The Argonian returned to his cigar-making as he replied. "Back home, I was well known in the province's Mages Guild for my skills in alchemy. I slowly became a medicinal healer for many leagues around. My knowledge in plants, herbs, and spices made my cooking quite famous as well. But it was not long before I learned all I could and my guild master pushed me to travel elsewhere… Here. All set."

The Argonian finished rolling the stubby cigar and handed it to Zayden. Zayden took it and gave it a long, deep sniff before handing off his one coin payment. He then rummaged for a match in his tinder box and before long the two were sharing in their mutual vice. "Thank you, said Zayden a minute after first lighting it. "You are right. I don't understand you 'mindfulness' approach. Truth be told, until a few minutes ago, I was having tobacco withdrawal and had no idea from what." Zayden forced himself to laugh his statement off but the reaction he got from the Argonian was a mixture of confusion and concern. "What, you never have withdrawal?"

The Argonian slowly shook his head. "Cannot say I have… As I mentioned: Imperial see the plant as something to possess and use. My people see it as some to cherish."

Zayden could not help himself from blurting out a scoff. "So it is all a matter of perspective then?" he mocked. "That is all it takes then?"

"Perhaps not to your people…" The Argonian shrunk slightly, unease returning to his voice.

Zayden quickly realized his error and scooted back half a step. "Sorry. I do not mean to mock, I… If you only knew what my last few days have been, you would be bitter at the world, too."

This peeked the lizard's curiosity. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"It's a nonsense story and you wouldn't believe me."

For the first time since meeting him, the Argonian gave a grin. "You might be surprised, Imperial, how much my people believe that yours would consider unbelievable. Besides, we have plenty of time before we reach Balmora. What else have we to do?"

Zayden sighed, realizing he walked himself into retelling the story. He took another quick puff and began from when he woke up on the boat. Because the story was not very long he put particular emphasis on his apparent state of amnesia. And as the story went on the Argonian sat still and listened attentively, a look of curiosity in his eye. When the tale was done he leaned back and contemplated it for a minute, taking more breaths of his cigar.

"A curious tale indeed," he finally said at length. "I know no one that can help with your lost past, I am sad to say… If you seek my advice…"

"I do," said Zayden. "Yours have been the first friendly face to greet me in this new land."

"I would, then, suggest you follow the orders of your brethren captors." Zayden knew he referred to the Legion. Zayden saw them as no brothers of his but kept that to himself. "Threat of death or not, it seems your only clear path forward. And that is not to mention this connection with the Emperor…"

Zayden nodded. "It was said that after meeting this informant that I would be a free man. I do not know whether to believe it."

"Nor do I," the Argonian agreed. "Yet to Balmora you must go, I should think."

"What can you tell me of Balmora, or anything more of Vvardenfell before we depart this creature?"

The Argonian agreed to help Zayden. For the next two hours the Imperial and Argonian spoke, the latter attempting to fill in the gaps of what Zayden managed to learn from the guide in the Census and Excise library. The two through their conversing shared between them another cigar and, when the Argonian remembered having drink on himself, passed between them a small skin of potent mead. As the sun began to turn golden in its descent to toward the horizon the skin was drained and Zayden, thinking back to the Argonian's story, asked him something.

"Unless I'm mistaken," said Zayden, "Morrowind still practices slavery. It is seen as a sacred right of the Dunmer people, yes?" The Argonian's gaze turned downward. "Mostly of your people and Khajiit…" He nodded slowly. "Why come to such a hostile place, then?"

He looked back up. "Because I am free," the Argonian replied. "I have protected status as a member of the Mages Guild. I also wish to prove a point, to act as an example to others of the beast races, both Argonian and Khajiit. Your Empire can not abolish these practices quick enough." Zayden glanced to the other end of the strider to the other, mostly Dunmer passengers. Half were pretending not to pay attention, the other half were looking on with disdain.

Zayden ignored the others' glares and smiled at the Argonian. "Perhaps, one day, the practice will end here, but most likely not in our lifetime. Forgive me for being a pessimist." The Argonian merely shrugged. "But I could be wrong. Stranger things have happened in Tamriel…"


	3. Caius Cosades

Chapter 3: Caius Cosades

The sun touched the horizon when the silt strider approached the city of Balmora from the south, exiting a brief stint through some swamplands and following a river (the Odai River, as the Argonian called it.) The river cut straight through the middle of Balmora, its width now tightened by a deep and narrow canal. The city itself was a sprawl of short, sandy clay buildings. The land rose up in the western and eastern halves with streets and buildings layered in elevation like a terrace farm. A thick, simple clay wall surrounded Balmora on all sides.

The strider made dock at a tall, obelisk staircase near the city's south entrance. From there the whole city seemed stretched out before them, disappearing as they descended to the open plaza below. It was there that the Argonian made a brief but meaningful goodbye to Zayden. He handed him one last, freshly rolled cigar before stating that "I believe, one day, we shall meet again. May we both find what we seek in the world and may your mystery be solved."

Zayden grinned and with a handshake the two turned away from each other and began their separate paths. When the man looked back a moment later the lizard had already been lost to the crowd. Zayden thought it a shame for he, in that moment, realized he never learned his lizard friend's name.

Zayden growling stomach, though, quickly switched his mind to other things. It took within ten minutes of searching this new, alien city to find a food vendor in an open market plaza. For seven gold pieces Zayden was served a small wooden bowl of a messy mash of baked potatoes and sweet mudcrab meat, a heel of crusty bread, and a tall wooden flagon of weak beer. With his stomach full, he set back off into Balmora to complete his task: finding Caius Cosades.

Zayden double-checked his bag to confirm he still had the scroll from Seyda Neen. He at first thought to ask townspeople for Caius's location but quickly found that to be a losing task. Zayden was a newcomer to both this city and continent: and "outlander." Most people of Vvardenfell, particularly the native Dunmer, were naturally inclined to distrust outlanders, and it seemed like everyone could smell Zayden's outlander status instantly.

After an hour of trying, Zayden finally resorted to asking a city guard for help. They were easy to spot, clad head-to-toe in an armor set of "bonemold," armor made from bones that had been shaped and fused together with magic. When Zayden approached the first pair of guards he came across the two were just as distained by the sight of an outlander as the rest had been. Their attitude quickly changed, however, when Zayden showed them the Imperial scroll. They instantly recognized the wax seal and asked Zayden to follow them.

The guards took Zayden across one of the few clay bridges spanning the city-cutting river to the eastern residential half of Balmora. From there they climbed two sets of stairs up two levels and followed that street north to its end. Once there one of the guards pointed to a simple, single level house.

"The old man you're looking for lives there," the guard said. "Imperial decree or not, he long ago stopped actively serving the Empire. He spends most his days inside his house, keeping to himself and his moon sugar. I would not hold out for hope, but you have your orders, outlander." The last line was said with a mocking tone.

Regardless, Zayden thanked the two and as they left he approached the door and knocked three times. A minute gave back no response. Again he knocked only to receive nothing in return. Then, as the third try was made, the door suddenly swung open and an old man jumped through with a holler. "What! What is it!?"

The old Imperial appeared before Zayden with white hair in a friar's cut and wearing only a pair of dark brown pants: no shirt, no shoes. His skin was slightly pale from his indoor seclusion and furthermore was wrinkled with age. But beneath that was the surprisingly toned and muscular shape of a very fit man. "Well?!" barked the man again. He glared at Zayden with furrowed, bloodshot eyes.

Zayden stammered for a moment but quickly remembered the document. He retrieved it from his bag and presented it to the old man. "Caius Cosades?" Zayden began. "I have this document from the Census and Excise Building in Seyda Need. It comes from-" Before he could finish, Caius snatched the document from Zayden's hands, broke the seal, and began to read it. It took only moments for the anger to wash away and be replaced with new placid calm.

"I see, I see," he finally replied, tucking the scroll under his arm. "Very well then, come inside. Lock the door behind you."

The inside of Caius's one room house was lit by an oil lantern in each corner and heated in the center by a low fire in a metal stove, a tall stovepipe stretching up through the ceiling. Tucked in the farthest corner was a bed, chest, and a wide wardrobe. In the opposite corner was a pantry and some cabinets and covering all other wall space were simple red banner tapestries.

"Take a seat," Caius said, dragging two small wooden chairs into the middle of the room in front of the stove. "I'll make us some tea. Unless you would prefer something stronger? I have some Cyrodillic brandy I've been holding on to."

"Brandy sounds fine, thank you," Zayden called back. Zayden sat next to the stove as Cauis poured two short glasses with the brandy. As he waited Zayden became aware of a faint, burnt sweet smell in the air. He recalled one of the guards mentioning "moon sugar" but did not know what that was or if it was at all related.

Caius handed Zayden a glass and took a seat next to him. "You have come to the correct man, stranger," he said. "I am Caius Cosades. My relation to the Imperial Legion is that I work as a spymaster. A "Grand Spymaster" at that… Though I can see that title means nothing to you. Very well, I shall attempt to explain." Caius took a swift gulp of his brandy before continuing.

"Son, what do you know of the Blades?" he asked Zayden.

"Not a thing," Zayden replied, taking a gulp of his own drink. It went down surprisingly easy.

"The Blades act as honored informants and protectors of the Emperor's interests. We are magnitudes of greater individual significance than some sell-sword turned Imperial guard. We are the Emperor's eyes, ears, mouth and, if necessary, his dagger. And I am the highest ranking Blade in Morrowind, both Vvardenfell and the province proper."

A scoff slipped past Zayden's lips, believing the old man was senile and speaking nonsense. But an instant later, when Caius showed no changed of expression on his face, Zayden quickly realized he was in error. Before he could even apologize Caius continued.

"I know what you must be thinking. 'A man of such rank, living in simple squalor like this? Living such a lowly life?' I make no apologies for my appearance, nor my condition. I am what I am: an old soul with a moon sugar problem… But I AM who I say I am: grand spymaster and member of the Blades. Would it help if I said I act this way to fools the locals?"

"I believe you," said Zayden.

"No, you don't," Caius shot back. "I would not believe it either, were our positions switched…" Caius paused. "Which makes what I am about to tell you next all the more unbelievable… This document stated you have amnesia of your past, correct?" Zayden nodded. "And so you have no idea as to why you have been brought to this land? To me?" Again, Zayden nodded. Caius took another gulp, prompting Zayden to follow suit. "The sad, pathetic truth is, Zayden, that in all likelihood you have been brought here, to Vvardenfell, to die."

Zayden nearly dropped the glass from his hand. "Die?!" he exclaimed. "What do you mean 'die!?'"

"What do you know of the Nerevarine Prophecy, son?" Caius then asked. Zayden's blank expression said it all. "The people of Morrowind, the Dunmer, have a great hero in their history from the First Era: Hotator Indoril Neravar, Chimeri King. It had been prophesized for many hundreds of years that Indoril Nerevar would be reincarnated as the 'Nerevarine.'"

A long silence filled the room. "And…" said Zayden finally, "you believe that I-"

"I believe nothing!" Caius snapped. "And by the gods, though it be by decree of the Emperor himself you be brought to me, I do not think he believes you to be Nerevarine either! Do you know why?" Zayden shook his head. "Because you, son, are not the first to be brought before me bearing hints of prophecy. Nor the second. Or the tenth. Or twentieth…"

Caius looked into the flames of the wood stove with despair. "In truth, I have lost count over the decades how many young fools have been brought before me, all of them sent with the hopes that 'They will be the Nerevarine,' all of them to fail by one means or another. And I had to be the one, each and every time, to send them out into the world with grandiose predictions of the future, of what the future will hold for them… Only for all of them to fail…"

He looked down into his empty glass. "To bear the weight of all those souls is more than you can imagine, Zayden. It breaks a man's spirit, grinds it into dust, and destroys the will to go on… I am long in the years, son, though I am fit and agile for my age." He turned to Zayden. "It is all unfair to you, to put this all upon you so quickly and suddenly, I know. But I feel my years on Nirn are short. I mean not to take my own life, but sending one more poor unfortunate soul out into the world, his head filled with false dreams and ambition, only to have them shattered will be the death of me… The townsfolk of Balmora think I'm just a "sweet tooth" slowly killing himself with skooma, but no. Guilt has been killing me for much longer…"

Zayden looked on at the old man in stunned silence. It was now hard to believe that moments earlier he thought of Caius as nothing more than a lunatic. Maybe, perhaps, he still was, but no lunatic could tell such a heartbreaking tale. Zayden believed Caius and wondered what this would mean for himself.

Caius noticed Zayden's empty glass and took it from him. "I will not lie to anyone any longer," he stated, walking away to fill the glasses again. "I refuse to fill another head with prophecy. If you are indeed the Nerevarine, the prophecy will be fulfilled regardless of what I say! Instead, I have only one task for you, Zayden." Caius sat back down and gave Zayden back the glass. "I want you to live."

"Live?" Zayden repeated.

"Yes. Find your own path in this world. Have adventures. Make friends. Find a wife and have children, I don't care. But work toward a good future, and make that future your own. Do not pursue a future that others have created for you, or said is yours! Be your own master and your own destiny! The only thing I ask of you further is that if you succeed in this future you create that you come visit me from time to time to tell me of it. If I know I have lead at least one person on a prosperous path, I might be able to die with some semblance of peace… Can you promise me this, Zayden?"

Again Zayden was left stunned. "I think I can," he responded at length. "But this place, Vvardenfell, is alien to me. I do not know where I would begin."

A faint smile creeped over Caius's lips. "I may be able to give you that," he said. "You look to be a fit young man. Perhaps the Fighters Guild can put you on the right path. It would, at least, give you an income."

"Fighters Guild?" Zayden repeated. "I am no fighter. Do not let these weapons fool you; these were given to me by-"

"I am no fool!" said Caius. "Many have been brought before me with gifted arms, put into the hands of those that have never swung a woodcutter's axe! Though you claim to be no fighter, I sense otherwise. Besides, fighting is not all the Fighters Guild can offer!"

Over more brandy and some dried meats and buttered bread, Caius explained the operations of guilds in Tamriel, specifically in Vvardenfell. There existed three primary guilds in each of the seven provinces: the Fighters Guild, the Mages Guild, and the Thieves Guild, though the Empire would officially deny the last's existence. Each guild gave a primary function as hinted to by their name but also offered numerous secondary functions for whatever town, city, or community they operated in.

The Mages Guild, dealing primarily in the education of mages, sorcerers, and wizards in the teaching and proliferation of magic and magical teachings, also provided the necessary books and supplies for towns and cities to open schools. The Thieves Guild (all unofficially, of course) while providing an outlet to "productively" steal under a strictly enforced code of honor, acts secondarily as an underground network to prevent or stop other sorts of "unregulated crime" to happen and get out of control. The Fighters Guild, as it were, operated as an organization for more than mercenaries, bounty hunters, and swords-for-hire. Their secondary function was that of employing day laborers and working hands for things like construction and farming.

All of these guilds, whether in concert or independent of each other, hold a sizable holding over labor wherever they operate, effectively act as unionizing forces. Private enterprises can and do operate within guild territory, but competition against guild services have a strange tendency of disappearing or being absorbed over time. Caius seemed to speak with great distain as he explained these last sets of details.

"People claim the Empire and the Legion are tyrannical and stifling of competition with the East Empire Company branch. Bah! We would allow free markets and fairer competition under Imperial rule, but the elves of this province hate Imperials and their influence, reject it outright! Fools! They would reject a better system and be blind to the corruption their Great Houses allow right in front of their eyes, only because it was theirs and not foreign! The ignorance!" Zayden remained unsure whether to believe the old man's ramblings or not but nonetheless found them amusing.

Caius leaned back in his chair to take a long breath, realizing his glass was now empty for the third time. "I suppose I had better stop, both drinking and my rambling," he chuckled. "I think I have spoken long enough. The day is done and night has most likely already fallen. I will take no more of your time and send you off.

On the other side of the river, up four levels, you will find a shelter for the homeless. Keep your wits about you and an eye on your possessions and you will find it a decent place for one free night's rest. Those who run the place allow anyone that much. Any more than that and they will begin charging you coin. Do what you will before nightfall, but when that time comes, I would go there for rest. Come morning I will send correspondence back to Seyda Neen letting the Legion know we have made contact. This will keep the Legion off your back."

Zayden nodded in agreement. "I think I shall do as you suggest. Thank you Caius, for all you have told me. I do not know whether to take seriously this prophecy business, Emperor or not. But at the very least I have a clearer path forward. Thank you for this. I promise you that I will return and tell you how your guidance has helped me."

"I would appreciate that, Zayden," said Caius. "Your past maybe be shadowed in mystery but I believe your future path is clear. It will be up to you now to make it bright and to bring some of that light back to me."

"Take care, Caius Cosades," bid Zayden.

"Take care," Caius said back.

The two exchanged one last goodbye before Zayden left through the front door. By now the sky was black and full of stars and the air full of chirping insects. Zayden followed his path back across the Odai River to the market district which seemed more crowded than earlier that evening. Zayden made his way to the fourth level to seek out the aforementioned homeless shelter. It was near the northern outskirts of Balmora but was not at all hard to find. The increasing amount of travelers and transients that seemed to clutter the street gave its position away. Getting into the facility- an open air courtyard- was also not at all difficult. Finding a space to lie down, however, proved slightly different.

The area was full of many people huddled in groups on the ground, there being no tables or chairs to speak of. It left very little space to walk and navigate. Despite this Zayden managed to step and balance his way toward the very back where there was enough space to sit with his back against the wall. He clutched his bag securely in his lap and arms, remembering Caius's warning. He took a moment to observe the people around him, wondering of anyone was brought to Vvardenfell like him, like the others on that prison ship. He pondered this for only a moment before his exhausted body plunged him to sleep.


	4. Zeela

Chapter 4: Zeela

Zayden awoke from his sleep to the feeling of a heavy weight sitting atop his outstretched legs. The courtyard was dimly lit this late at night and before him, straddled atop his thighs, was a cloaked hooded figure dressed in dark colored clothes. Before Zayden could manage any sort of sound the figure outstretched a slender arm and covered his mouth.

"Keep quiet," the voice commanded in a whisper. It was a woman, that much was now clear. "I am a poor, starving young orphan that will gut you from nuts to neck if you make any loud noises. Understand?" Zayden glanced down toward his crotch to see, glinting in the lamp light, a stout dagger, its tip hovering inches above his groin. He gave a single silent nod of his head. "Good. Now, I'm going to take my hand off your mouth and search your bag. Remember, if you make any loud noises…" Again Zayden nodded.

The woman did as she said, releasing her hand from Zayden's mouth and began swiftly rummaging through his bag. Within seconds she retrieved the coin pouch, softly jiggling it to confirm its contents. "Feels light. This all you have?" she asked.

"Yes," Zayden whispered back in a cracking voice.

"Pity. I pegged you as an outlander, fresh off the boat, and it seems I was correct. Keep still." The woman returned to fingering through the bag with her left arm, her right hand still keeping the dagger threateningly close to Zayden's privates. He wondered for a moment if he could strike fast, grab her by the wrist or knock the weapon from her hand. But his hands were firmly by his sides and too paralyzed with fear.

"…Who are you?" he whispered at length.

"Shut up," she snapped back. "I told you. I'm an orphan who is going to kill you if you keep acting up." As fear-stricken as Zayden was he thought the explanation seemed fake, almost rehearsed. "Your silver tongue won't talk your way out of this, Imperial," she continued. It is often said, usually in jest, that Imperials possess natural gifts in charisma and mercantile, such things contributing to the rise of the Empire. The effectiveness of such things toward the individual remains largely antidotal and in dispute.

The woman searched for another minute before giving up. "Junk," she spat, "all the rest of it. Well, can't say I didn't try. Well thank you, Imperial stranger, for all your-"

"What's going on over there?" A voice from the other end of the courtyard sounded. Zayden peeked over the woman's right shoulder and saw a Redguard man holding a lamp walking toward the two of them. Zayden opened his mouth to scream but was stopped short when the woman lunged her face forward and clamped her mouth around Zayden's. At the same instant she reached her right arm around his lower back and dropped the knife between it and the wall. She then brought her left hand around the back of his neck, pressing herself against him in a tight embrace.

"I said what's going on?" he demanded. "Who are you?"

The woman broke lip contact and swung her head around, lifting the hood off her head. She revealed her identity in the bright beam of the man's spotlight lamp: a young Dunmer with charcoal colored shoulder length hair. A faint scar marred the left cheek of an otherwise pleasant visage. She quickly put on a convincing look of shock.

"W-What?" she stammered at the Redguard. "Who are you?"

"I'm the one asking questions here. It's the dead of night. What are you two doing here?"

"W-Well, you see, this gentleman and I met earlier this evening and, as it turns out, we really seemed to like each other. He told me to come by here later to meet up again…" She paused to give a giddy chuckle. "I guess I couldn't control myself. Took him by surprise, I think. You know how us young woman get at this age, you know? We just see a handsome man and-"

"Enough!" said the Redguard, who was either not buying the story or was already sick of hearing it. "Keep that behavior in a brothel where it belongs. Get the hell out of here, woman, before I call the guards and have you arrested."

"Y-Yes, sir," the woman whispered, slowly picking herself up and tiptoeing her way to the exit of the courtyard.

Once she was out of sight the Redguard turned his attention to Zayden. "That goes for you, too," he said. "Come dawn you are out of here, and I don't want to see your face back here again. Understood?" Zayden nodded in silence.

The Redguard turned and left the room. Zayden looked around him and noticed that the commotion had awoken some of the others. Everyone was staring at him in bewilderment, most of them angry for haven been woken up. Zayden could say nothing and do nothing but sink lower and cover his head with his own hood. He shifted backwards and felt the handle of the dagger the woman had left behind poking at his spine.

Zayden got barely any more sleep for the remainder of the night. That morning, as the sun first began to peek over the tops of the hills in the east, he was the first to be escorted out of the shelter. The same Redguard from the last night, with a forceful arm and handing him a small loaf of dark bread, practically threw him off the premises. Zayden dashed off down the street, wanting to leave the area as quickly as possible. He soon found a small nook between two buildings and ate his bread alone.

Zayden had been robbed of the very last of his money. What had been hours before enough to last a few days was gone in an instant. Now more than ever he needed work. Caius had recommended the Fighters Guild, but Zayden had no idea where it was.

He began his search much as he did the previous day: asking the Balmora guard. If being an outlander garnered their disdain yesterday, being flat broke made Zayden a pariah. It seemed today the population of the city could smell his poverty and wanted nothing to do with him. It did not take long to logic out why this was the case.

Balmora was often the first place travelers from Seyda Neen went when arriving in Vvardenfell. Most of Balmora's inhabitants are the local Dunmer, who already share a strong cultural distain of outsiders of the homeland. Over time, the people learned to ignore the outlanders outright, believing alienation was the best and easiest method of making them go elsewhere. This forced Zayden to comb the entire city, level by level, street by street, for any indication of where he wanted to go.

Two hours of search left him with nothing but a creeping desperation and a growing hole in his now ravenous stomach. His entire circumstance was starting to unravel Zayden emotionally. Just how much against him was this entire city? Perhaps what Caius said was correct. Perhaps Zayden was truly send to this forsaken continent to die.

"Hello again!" a voice said to Zayden's left. He felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around his left arm. Zayden turned his head to see the reddened Dunmer eyes of the woman from last night inches from his face. Once more he wanted to scream but the woman stopped him with a kiss. A quick peck this time. "Maybe we can find a more private place to talk?" she asked in a faux, cheery tone.

Zayden was too stricken with fright to go anywhere but where the Dunmer lead him. With him firmly locked in her grip, clutching him like a lover for onlookers to see, she lead Zayden on a short walk up the street and down one level to a new courtyard, this one open to the public, empty of people, and hosting many open benches and a few flower beds. She led him to one of the benches and sat the both of them down.

"Did you enjoy that kiss last night?" she asked Zayden mockingly. "And the one I just gave you? I don't give them often, and not without high cost. Your fee is the knife I had to leave behind. Give it back." Zayden remained motionless and said nothing. "Answer me, Imperial."

"I can't give it back," Zayden finally replied. "I couldn't take it with me before they threw me out of the shelter. I doubt they will let me back inside to get it."

"What?!" she hissed. "Damn! No way they will allow me back, either. That knife was made out of silver and very expensive! If you cannot get it back, you are going to pay me back its value!"

"Why? You lost the damn thing while trying to steal from me! Why should I help you?"

"Because, if you do not, I'll make good on my threat from before and slice you in two."

"With what? The knife you lost?"

"Look again, Imperial." Zayden glanced back down to his crotch to see another blade hovering over it, this one tucked inside a sleeve of her left arm. "A thief always comes prepared with more than one weapon."

"Maybe you should carry more 'favorite knives' then, since you seem to lose them often. For that matter, 'thief,' why don't you go and steal the knife back, if you're so haughty to your skills."

The elf tightened her grip on Zayden's arm, bringing the knife tip closer to its target. "Do you have a death wish, Imperial? You're pretty bold for someone about to have their manhood chopped off," she said.

"Well maybe I have no further use for it!" Zayden spat back. A new look of rage flushed over Zayden. The woman cocked an eyebrow in confusion but remained silent. "I know your kind care nothing about outlanders like me," he continued, "but I was brought here less than five days ago and after being imprisoned, being sent to a city where everyone now refuses to speak to me, I think I truly HAVE been sent to this forsaken place to die! Caius and his hopes be damned! I want nothing more to do with this hell! You want to stab me, woman? You want to gut me right here? On this bench? In the middle of this park? Go ahead! Do it and be done with it! I have had enough!"

An odd chill swept through the air of the courtyard. For a moment the both of them remained motionless, their eyes firmly locked onto the others; Zayden's showing fury and the woman's showing a growing sense of confusion. She waited for a sign, anything to show that the man was either insane or bluffing. But nothing of the sort came. And in that moment the joy of her torment the man was lost.

The woman sheathed her wrist blade back up her sleeve and slightly loosened the grip of his arm. "Do you really want to die?" she asked Zayden.

"… No, I don't want to die," he admitted, "but if that is all that awaits me here, whether by starvation or murder, so be it."

The elven woman had seen many things in her sixty years of life: life's beautiful and ugly halves, its good and evil, its highs and lows. Her life as a thief of the Thieves Guild exposed her to much this world had to offer, including people at their lowest points possible. She had seen the look in the eyes of those who had nothing to lose and those who wanted nothing more than to end their miserable lives. And in this Imperial's eyes she did not see that look.

"Do you truly have nothing to live for, Imperial?" the Dunmer enquired. "No one you can call friend? You mentioned a 'Caius?'"

Zayden was finally thrown off guard by the woman's sudden shift in demeanor. The sadism that was present moments ago had vanished. "Caius is- Humph." Zayden scoffed. "Caius is an old drug addicted fool working for the same Empire that sent me to this place. He asked that I 'lead a good life on his behalf,' but only because he wants me to absolve himself of guilt for the things he did in his past. He never asked what I wanted or what I desired! And for a moment I believed him, too. For a moment I thought he actually cared about me. I can see now I was wrong."

"No one else, then?" she then asked. "No friends? Family? A wife?"

"If I had such things in the past they are now lost to my memory. You will think me insane to say this, but by unknown means the details of my past prior to the four days I have been in Vvardenfell are lost. I have no memory of my past… and I desire no future… I will never be able to repay your damned knife. So just kill me now, woman, and be done with it." Zayden closed his eyes and awaited his fate.

Zayden awaited the cut of cold steel to pierce his skin but instead felt a tightening around his arm. When nothing else happened he opened his eyes and turned to the elven woman. She had moved in closer to him and now rested her head on his shoulder. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Are you not going to kill me?"

"No, I will not" she replied with a chuckle, her gaze now on a nearby flower bed. "I will not kill you because I don't believe you."

"You think I've made all this up?!"

"I mean your death wish, Imperial. I do not believe you want to die, your story true or not. I've seen many broken people over the years. I've seen true loss in the eyes of others, people truly at their end. And you, sir, do not strike me at someone ready to die."

"And what makes you so sure tha- OW!" Zayden shouted at the prodding touch of the elf's wrist knife into his left thigh. He leapt up off the bench and spun back around to the woman who was now laughing at him. "You thought that was funny, did you?!"

"A man so ready to die yet runs at at gently poke?" she mocked. "Yes, that is quite funny indeed. And it proves my point. If you really wanted to die, Imperial, you would have already drown yourself in the Odai River instead of waiting for a woman to kill you herself. You are upset at your lot in life, that much is certain, but you have no death wish. I think you want to live. But now the question is to what end…"

Zayden was stunned."… What is your name, elf?" he asked at length.

"Zeela," she replied. "And yours?"

"Zayden." Zeela cocked her eyebrow. "I could not remember my real name so Imperial guards gave me one to 'better fit my new home.'"

"I will take your word for it," Zeela said, unbelieving. She paused for another moment to think. "Say…This Caius you spoke of. Was he Caius Cosades?"

"Y-Yes, he was," said Zayden, stunned once again. "You knew him?"

"In a sense. He spent a lot of his time in the South Wall Cornerclub, where the thieves in Balmora meet. He was a big drug fiend, like you mentioned. But he could handle his skooma pretty well, better than any Khajiit. And anyone who judged him of his habit had a tendency to disappear, if you catch my meaning." Whether she was joking or not, Zeela managed to get Zayden to chuckle. "I've known him for years, but only in a distant sense. I always felt he was man with a huge weight on his shoulders, but he never opened up to me or anyone I knew enough to say what. Strange he would open up to you, an outlander. Perhaps he really thought you were important enough to…" Zeela trailed off in thought. "Perhaps…"

"Zeela?"

"Zayden… I think I might have discovered the answer to all our problems: your debt to me, your promise to Caius, and your lack of purpose in life."

"And that would be?" Zayden asked, now also unbelieving.

"You, Imperial, are going to join the Thieves Guild!"

Zayden scoffed at the suggestion. "You toy with me again!" he said. "You expect me to become a criminal to pay back what you lost whilst stealing from me?!"

"Has a bit of a poetic theme to it, does it not?" Zeela laughed.

"It does not!"

"Relax, Imperial. There are more ways than strict theft to be part of the Thieves Guild, but all will be explained in time. For now, though, follow me to the South Wall. There we can met with my boss and have food and drink. I could feel your stomach growling."

"And if I refuse to follow?" Zayden retorted

"Then throw yourself in the river," Zeela replied, "and stop wasting my time. Make your choice."

This time Zeela needed no tight grip nor threat of cutting blades to get Zayden to follow her. Her path led back across the city to the eastern residential half and back to the same street level that Caius Cosades's house was. At the opposite south end of that long street, tucked away in a notch carved into the face of a hill was a building with a set of stairs leading to a roof terrace. The front of the building had no sign displaying its name, only a hanging banner with a design of an armored, eight-legged insect. Zayden would later learn it was a scrib.

Before going through the front entrance Zeela warned Zayden to "Stick close to me and act like you belong here." Before Zayden could ask what that meant Zeela was already stepping inside. The doorway entered into a dimly lit foyer where a Nord woman in a brown robe sat nearby in a small chair. To her right was a small table with a pitcher and cups adorning it. The woman rose to greet Zeela but quickly turned her attention to the man standing beside her.

"He is a potential recruit," explained Zeela. "I think he might be a good racketeer. Is Habasi in?"

"Yes," the Nord replied. "She's downstairs having a drink."

Zeela thank the woman before she and Zayden followed the hallway left, left again, and left once more down stairs to the basement level. The base of the stairs opened up into a cantina with a dark wood bar across the opposite wall, the floor filled with two long narrow tables lined with stools. Only a handful of people were there at the time and it was quick to see that most were either friends to Zeela or fellow thieves for most turned to greet her as she entered.

Zayden followed Zeela to the bar and they each took a seat where an old Breton man with balding white hair and expensive clothing was quick to greet the two. "Welcome back," he said to Zeela as he began to pour beer into a tankard. "Who is your companion? Never seen him around here before."

"New to the island, he claims," said Zeela. "I think we might be able to induct him into our club. Pour him a tankard, the same as mine. As soon as Sugar-Lips is done, we can talk business."

"Who is Sugar-Lips?" Zayden asked.

"Sugar-Lips Habasi. The Khajiit sitting over to our right." She pointed over her shoulder to a female Khajiit clad in white, insect like segmented armor. She had remained so still since his arrival that Zayden did not notice her until not. Not even at the mention of her name did she lift her gaze from the drink in front of her. "Never try to talk to her when she is drinking. She treats drinking like a spiritual ritual, and breaking her concentration is a bad idea." It reminded Zayden of the Argonian's smoking ritualization.

The comment made Zayden wonder what exactly would happen if the ritual was broken but he quickly brushed the thought aside. "Zeela, wait a moment," said Zayden. "You never explained exactly what I would be doing as part of this 'club.'" Zayden took a gulp of his beer and was pleased. Mildly better than what he drank the day before.

"The Thieves Guild," Zeela answered, "does more than simply steal. Though people like Caius would 'officially' deny it, we work in unofficial capacity with the Empire in Morrowind. Criminals and criminality, you see, can be of tremendous use to society if utilized properly. Wanton theft and crime are never good things, of course, and official channels of law enforcement can only do so much. They may act as the face of law and order to the public, but the truth is that to truly defeat a criminal, you must think like a criminal. Become the criminal.

That, Zayden, is what we do. We embrace the thief as a way of life to take on the true threats in this world. One might liken it to thinning out a few cattle to prevent the spread of a disease in a herd. What we do might be 'wrong,' but we protect everyone from much worst things."

"You really sound like you know what you're saying," said Zayden, genuinely impressed.

"I should think so. I've been doing this for nearly fifty years now."

"Fifty years?!" Zayden balked. "Again you jest! You don't look too much younger than I!"

"Has your amnesia caused you to forget elven lifespans? We Dunmer live lives that double yours in years. I am sixty-four years old, Zayden, but I match your equivalent mid-twenties, I suspect."

"But for fifty years you've been thieving?"

"Not the whole time, obviously. And it is not as dangerous as you make it sound. Racketeering is a bit more involved, but thieving beyond the initial, small time game when you start out can really pay off long-term. One good heist can sustain a modest living for a couple of years. Bigger heists can last a decade. In that time you lie low. Maybe leave the province and settle someplace new. Sometimes it is necessary to 'go dark' for a few years, let people forget you ever existed."

"And I am to assume you say this all from experience?" Zayden asked, to which Zeela nodded.

"And if thieving is not to your liking," she continued, "which I believe you have indicated it is, there is always racketeering. The Thieves Guild always needs muscle to root and stomp out petty criminals and brazen upstarts, as well as the real dangers to society; rapists, murders, that sort. That, I think, you could do well."

"Z-Zeela," Zayden cut in. "You clearly speak from skill and experience, and you make this all sound quite glamorous. But with all said and done, this all sounds like the work of thugs." A shallow hush fell over the already quiet room. A few patrons turned to give Zayden sideways glances, looks that were not at all friendly. Zayden continued unaware. "You held me at knife point just yesterday and robbed me of all my money, and now you hold a debt over me over a knife you lost! And you now claim to be the one to offer a solution to my problems? You have only created problems for me from the start! Give me one good reason I should not walk out this room and never come back!"

Without warning the silent Khajiit slammed her empty glass on the bar and shot up from her stool. "Because, Imperial," she said with a venomous tone on her fangs, "Zayden has no choice in the matter. Says I."

Zeela rose from her seat and turned to face Sugar-Lips, she being just as shocked as Zayden. "Habasi," Zeela exclaimed. "You are talking authority in this matter?"

"Yes. Khajiit has heard enough." Sugar-Lips measuredly walked past Zeela and approached Zayden. Her light blue eyes with wide black pupils caused a nervous chill in Zyaden as she looked over the man before him. "Zeela invokes debt upon you, Imperial, and Khajiit seconds it. Debt will be repaid."

"What if I refuse?" Zayden snapped back. "She lost her own knife by no fault of my own! And just who are you, exactly?"

Sugar-Lips leaned in closer, the black of her eyes now narrowing into razor slits, sending the chill through Zayden's spine. "Zayden will repay. Khajiit 'Mastermind' in Balmora. Khajiit have friends all across Vvardenfell and Tamriel. Zayden cannot run from us until debt repaid. Is Khajiit clear?"

Welling up within Zayden, mixing with his chilling fear was a new rising heat of anger. "I don't believe you," he said through a tight jaw.

"Zayden will be free to leave," she then explained. "But Imperial will be followed. Whatever coin Zayden makes, we will come and take it, wherever you are, until debt is paid. We would gladly leave Zayden in the streets without a coin to spare. If Zayden refuses to pay, we hurt him. If refuse again, we hurt again. We not kill Zayden, just make Zayden wish we did."

The Khajiit's threat was finally beginning to sink in. Zayden's eyes darted between her and Zeela, who looked on with a type of smug indifference. "Zayden could, however," Habasi continued, "join Thieves Guild. We give Zayden bed to sleep in, training in our ways, and refuge in South Wall until debt repaid. Once paid, Zayden may leave and we will not follow. Your choice."

"Not much of one," Zayden grumbled. "Live in the streets, constantly stalked, or live like a civilized being… Very well, Khajiit. I will join your guild. For the time being." Sugar-Lips lean back with a chuff of relief, Zeela continuing to look on with a grin poking out the side of her mouth. "So when do you expect this debt repaid?" he then asked.

"Zayden may take a long as needed," Sugar-Lips replied. "But Zayden will first be taught in our ways, by Zeela, until Khajiit feels you are ready."

Zeela flinched at the mention of her name and stepped toward Habasi. "Me, ma'am?" she asked.

The Khajiit met the elf's confused stare. "Yes," she stated, her tone regaining its venom. "Zeela has never lost anything in her service under Khajiit. Yet now Zeela, stealing from Imperial, loses expensive item. Zeela was foolish! Zeela will pay for her foolishness by teaching Imperial. Says I."

Zeela wanted to object but it quickly washed over her that it would be all in vain. Sugar-Lips, once she settled a matter, very seldom changed her position. "Very well," Zeela finally relented. "I will train him."

"Good. Now celebrate Zayden's induction. The Imperial drinks for free tonight. And make sure he drinks enough to regret it the next morning, for he begins training then." Sugar-Lips gave Zeela a knowing wink and grin before retreating through a door behind the bar. Once she had left Zeela turned her now furrowing glare back toward Zayden, who sat with an odd mixture of relief and confusion on his face.

"Congratulations," Zeela told him, flatly. "It looks like I have been made your teacher."

"So it would seem," said Zayden, unable to hold back a chuckle.

"Oh, but do not starting laughing yet, Imperial. You heard Sugar-Lips. Training begins tomorrow, but tonight you drink." Zeela walked behind the bar and produced a small, yellow glass and a fat clay jug. "This is sujamma, a local liquor. It's about as strong as brandy and tastes like ferment tea." She poured a measure of it and placed it in front of Zayden. "You are going to drink this entire jug tonight. When you wake up tomorrow- trust me- you finally will wish you were dead.

When you do, I will begin your training."


	5. Honor Among Thieves

Chapter 5: Honor Amongst Thieves

Zayden awoke with his forehead planted firmly against the surface of the bar he found himself sitting at the night previous and wondered for a moment if he had moved at all. He lifted his gaze to see the same clay jug from the evening before cracked in half in front of him, empty of its contents. His small yellow glass, similarly, was in pieces on the floor next to his stool. Before he could look further, Zayden was suddenly grabbed by the back of his collar and guided off his stool and back toward the stairs.

"Good, you finally woke up," Zeela chided with a hint of mirth in her voice, pushing the stumbling Imperial forward. "I thought I might have actually killed you last night. But you actually managed to drink one-and-a-half jugs of sujamma. I'm actually kind of impressed. You must have been the town drunk where you came from."

"W-Where are you taking me?" Zayden barely managed to slur through the splitting pain in his head.

"You will find out in a minute."

Zeela led Zayden back up the stairs and out the front door of the South Wall Cornerclub. The weather that day was overcast and foggy making it impossible to guess the time of day. He was led around the back of the building where a few patrons from the night before sat rearby atop wooden crates smoking pipes. They glanced at Zayden and smirked as he was pushed by a few meters to the south toward a sizable tree.

Zayden was then pushed against the trunk of the tree, his arms only just managing to stop him from falling into the trunk completely. Before he could ask another question Zeela had leaned in and opened a small vial underneath Zayden's nose. One whiff of its contents was enough to induce an intense bout of vomiting. Everything he had drank last night came back out the way it came.

"Smelling salts," Zeela explained as the man continued to heave more and more. "We'll need to sober you up and replace what you've now lost with water and food. Once you've stopped we'll go back inside for some breakfast."

Zayden was too busy expelling the contents of his stomach to be angry at Zeela, both for drinking him into blacking out and her "cure" this morning. He looked over to his left at the group of pipe smokers. While most turned away at the spectacle one looked on and laughed aloud with each new heave and hurl. It took Zayden roughly seven minutes before he could declared himself "empty."

When Zayden and Zeela returned to the lower level of the South Wall the old Breton from the day before was back behind the bar. A small plate of dark brown toast coated with honey, a thin flank of ham, and a tall flagon of water was already served and waiting for Zayden.

The Breton chuckled at the Imperial's now sickly appearance. "Eat and drink slowly, 'toad,'" he advised Zayden. "Last person I ever saw drink that much in an evening might have been old Caius himself. But that was over ten years ago, and on a heavy bet."

"I remember that," Zeela added, putting Zayden in a seat in front of his food, then taking a seat adjacent. "That young Dunmer had no idea who he was challenging. But he was a good sport afterward. Unlike this one next to me."

Zayden was midway through a small bit of his toast when he turned to Zeela. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"If you were resentful before you started drinking, you embodied resent wholly once you were halfway through your jug. You seethe in a very quiet yet vicious way, Imperial. Oh the things you muttered to yourself through clenched teeth when you thought no one was listening." Zeela gave a hearty laugh as she took from the Breton a cup of black coffee. "But you always insisted on seeing the task through to the end. And you did, and then some."

"Thank you…" Zayden grumbled, returned his throbbing thoughts back to his breakfast. Despite emptying his stomach prior, each bite conjured a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Through it all, though, he managed to clean his plate. As he began to gradually finish his water, Zeela reached over and held out in front of Zayden his one remaining cigar made by the Argonian.

"You attempted to smoke this last night," Zeela explained, "but fumbled it from your fingers and once it fell to the floor you quickly forgot about it. If you want it now-" Zayden snatched it up in an instant and, noticing a small candle on the bar near him, began to smoke it there and then. While it did nothing to ease his stomach or head, the cigar did manage somehow to calm his nerves, if only slightly.

It was around this time that the door behind the bar opened and Sugar-Lips Habasi emerged from behind it. She greeted Zayden first with a passive, almost uncaring look, then greeting Zeela and the Breton warmly. "How is 'toad' feeling?" she asked Zayden. When Zayden did not reply immediately Zeela cut in and answered.

"He's been 'emptied' this morning," she told Sugar-Lips. "After he eats I'll have him study up the fundamentals." Sugar-Lips nodded in approval and, after making her leave known to the others, left for the stairs.

"Toad?" Zayden repeated aloud. "I have been called that twice this morning now."

"Such is the name of your rank. All members begin as 'toads.' Most people here are 'Wet Ears' and 'Footpads,' respectively one and two ranks above you. Sugar-Lips is a 'Mastermind,' one rank below the highest rank possible, 'Master Thief.'"

"And you are…?"

"A 'Captain.' Toad, Footpad, Blackcap, Operative, Bandit, Captain, Ringleader, Mastermind, Master Thief. That's how the rankings go. I could have easily been a ringleader a long time ago, but I had no desire for it back then." She swiftly finished what was left of her coffee before continuing. "You can read, yes?" Zayden nodded. "Good, because you'll be doing nothing but that today, since you're recovering. I have in my quarters the fundamental texts to understanding what it means to become a member of the Thieves Guild.

Tomorrow, when you have fully sobered up, your days will consist of physical training during the day and study in the evening. Take your water and cigar with you for now. Follow me."

Zayden followed Zeela behind the bar through the same door Sugar-Lips had appeared from. It led to a single hallway with doors evenly spaced the entire length. Zeela walked to the third door on the left and opened it with a key she produced from underneath her cloak.

Zeela's quarters were sparse and small, measuring no more than fifteen feet long and ten feet across. A cloth hammock stretched taught and close to the ceiling across the shorter back wall, leaving enough room beneath it to walk under. Beneath the hammock, against the wall, was a small bookshelf filled with some books but mostly scrolls. Against the right wall were two wardrobes and a large chest and against the left wall was a long desk and chair.

"Take a seat at the desk," Zeela said and she started to grab items from the bookshelf. She eventually laid out on the desk several things and explained that all these texts were to be read and understood by tomorrow morning. Zayden nodded and it was not long before Zeela turned to leave her quarters and Zayden to his work.

"I'll grab you some more water. Need anything else?" She asked Zayden before leaving through the door.

Zayden thought for a moment and, looking at the now half-smoked cigar he paced to the side, remembered someone. "Yes," he replied with a grin. "More cigar tobacco and an Argonian to roll them for me."

Zeela chuffed with amusement at the request. "I can fulfil the first part but not the second. Slaves aren't cheap, don't you know?" Before Zayden could explain he did not mean a slave Zeela had already turned away and shut the door behind her. Zayden began his reading.

The writings he was given were an odd collection. One volume, a book entitled "Honor Among Thieves" was a detailed code for thieves for daily conduct with other thieves, the public, and authority figures, as well as an outline of the guild's higher values and beliefs. In some respect it made the organization out to sound somewhat like a religion, even implying worship of some daedric princes.

Other articles proved to be just as informative. One scroll detailed the use of "shadowmarks," a list of different symbols carved into homes and buildings to denote their status, whether they were worth stealing from or not, whether they were under guild protection, fence locations, safe havens, and "no go zones." Other scrolls were printed illustrations and detailed narrations of proper fighting techniques, another a brief guide on construction a proper "sneaking suit."

Other texts were lessons written in the form or stories. One such tale, "Three Thieves," was a gruesome account, first consisting of three men discussing various methods of how to cutting another's throat whilst keeping yourself clean of blood, and finishing with an anecdotal story of the deadly fate of those who betray their partners in crime.

Zayden was able to absorb much of the antidotal lessons easily enough. If one could put themselves in the mindset of a thief the teachings became somewhat common sense. It was subjects like the shadow marks and the things that required memorization that proved more difficult.

Zeela returned some time later with a pitcher of watered down ale and a bundle of chroot cigars wrapped in brown paper, explaining with faux disappointment that they were not rolled by Argonian claws. When Zayden briefly explained his run in with the alchemist on the silt strider, Zeela merely remarked that the tale was interesting and, taking a cigar for herself, urged him to keep studying, only returning a few time throughout the day.

Zayden spent much of the remainder of the day doing just that, taking only occasional breaks to eat and step outside for fresh air and a brief walk. By the time evening fell Zayden felt mentally exhausted and his hangover nearly gone. Zeela eventually sent him to the room opposite hers to sleep, a similarly small room furnished with only one bed roll and nothing else.

The next morning Zayden was woken up before dawn and fed a quick bread and water breakfast. Once finished, he was ordered to leave all his weapons in his room for Zeela and he would train with wooden weapons. She led Zayden out of Balmora and to the northeast, following a main road for a few miles before cutting north off of it. The two finally stopped in a wide, shallow dell spotted by tall barren trees.

Zeela tossed Zayden a crude blunt wooden dagger with a bent cross guard, she herself holding one. Without warning Zeela lunged forward and struck Zayden in the thigh. "One for me," she boasted with a grin. Zayden protested but was quickly cut off by another attack, one he barely managed to dodge.

"Is this our training?!" Zayden gasped between breaths as he dodged a few more swings and thrusts.

"Correct!" Zeela exclaimed. "You read and studied the diagrams and fighting manuscripts last evening, did you not?"

"A-A little, yes, but-"

"Pictures can only teach you much, Imperial. In theory. But without application, they mean nothing. I teach by harsh, unrelenting example! There will be no practicing of stance, form, or other such dance routines when I train you how to fight. I will attack, you will defend yourself and try to hit me back. Do not hold back because I am a woman because I am holding back nothing against you!"

Such was the basic tenor of the two's training: combat and fighting during the day and study at night with breaks in night lessons every few days. Some nights Zayden was taught and refreshed in the art and practice of lock picking. Some days in the practice of silent stealthy movement, both in day and night, city and in the wild. Weapon concealing, carrying, an improvising. Bribery, intimidation, coercion, and body language reading. Concealment and camouflage in both the wilds and the city. Spying and observation. All these things and more were taught to give Zayden as well-rounded a set of skills as possible.

It took a month-and-a-half into Zeela's crash course in sparring for him to finally develop a technique to defeat her. Using his naturally superior strength he developed a method of quick dodges and grappling follow-ups. Zeela was pleased when he recognized his adaptation to her superior speed and agility. "Very good, Zayden! Use your opponent's strengths against them and take advantage of yours!" It would be another two weeks before Zayden could successfully dodge and grapple Zeela in most sparring matches.

When Zeela realized this and felt satisfied in his improvement, morning sparring continued with a new, third member; an associate and friend of Zeela's from the Fighters Guild in Balmora. It was an Orc by the name of Garothmuk. Tall, thick muscles, and as mean a face as any warrior Orc could have.

Zayden's sparring with Garothmuk began with the Orc using a long, two-handed training sword. His swings, although much more powerful were much slower and, after sparring with Zeela so much, Zayden found it was easy to dodge and close the gap for a finishing blow against his opponent. When Zeela felt satisfied, the two then began fighting with one-handed swords, evening out their differences. This was when the sparring began to become very difficult.

As it turned out, when wielding a regular sized weapon, Garothmuk was quicker than Zeela in spite of his size. Now Zayden was at the mercy of a stronger opponent, forcing his to be even quicker. It took Zayden another three months to become atleast halfway good at fighting Garothmuk before Zeela was satisfied. Then Zayden had to spar against the both of them at the same time, and five more months passed. Zayden began to wonder if the opponents would keep increasing forever.

"That would be foolish," Zeela explained to Zayden when the concern was voiced. "One would have to be a master fighter to survive more than three opponents at once. Remember we are thieves, Zayden. Not fighters, not warriors. Thieves. If you face more than two opponents, the smartest thing for you to do is escape. We train you hard so you know your limitations, then teach you how to flee when your are outmatched. 'Pushing your boundaries' is the stuff of children's stories. In reality, you stick your head out too far and you die. It is always preferable to live to fight another day."

In total, Zeela's sparring training lasted a full year and four months. Normally, throughout this time, any aspiring thief would have been sent on at least on mission, usually as part of a group, to make their first steal. But Zeela did not subject Zayden to this for she knew, in his heart, he was not thief material. He was neither capable, nor did he have any desire, to commit any true criminal acts. It was her stated intention from the very beginning to have Zayden become "muscle" to assist others in racketeering jobs.

And so, when Zayden rose in guild rank twice during his training to become a "blackcap," Zayden was finally skilled and of sufficient rank to be sent out on jobs. On the day of his ascension to blackcap, Zayden, Zeela, and a few friends of the guild went to a tavern in Balmora's market district to celebrate.

The group returned late that evening and they met Sugar-Lips smoking outside the South Wall's front door. She greeted the group, particularly Zayden, warmly. "It has been good day for all," she commented as they walked inside together. "An old friend of the club has returned today as well. Zeela will be pleased to see him, Khajiit thinks."

Downstairs in the cantina, sitting at the bar, was an old Imperial with gray hair and simple brown pants and white shirt. Without him turning around Zeela instantly recognized him. "Caius!"

Caius Cosades turned and, recognizing Zeela, stood up to embrace her. "It has been a while, has it not?" he laughed. "Forgive me if I worried you."

"Not worried, so much. Someone like you, long in your years as you are, can not die so easily. It has been nearly two years! Where have you been?"

"I did a bit of soul searching, if you will, up north. I wanted to rid myself of my 'sugar' habit once and for all. I sought out one of the Ashlander tribes and they were able to cure me of it! I lived amongst them for a time and I returned to Balmora the day before last. I tell you, my dear, my mind feels much clearer." Caius's eyes scanned the group Zeela walked in with and his gaze eventually fell upon Zayden. "I see many familiar faces. But yours, Imperial, is new here. And yet…"

Caius approached Zayden and examined his features. "You strike me familiar, stranger. Have we met before?"

Zayden was an instant away from saying "No" when his memories of arriving to Vvardenfell came rushing back in a great wave. "Yes…" Zayden replied. "We have met before, Caius. I was sent to your home months ago, by order of the Emperor."

Caius pondered this for a moment before his eyes glinted with recognition. "I do remember you! You were yet another prophecy hopeful. I sent you away to fulfil your own desires, not those of the empire. And so you have found yourself back here in Balmora?"

"I never really left."

"Zayden," Zeela cut in, "has only just become a blackcap for the Thieves Guild. I trained him for many months to become a racketeer. He is to be sent on his first job in three days."

"Truly? Well, this is a tale that I must hear. Come you two and sit with me! We have much to discuss."

Caius, Zeela, and Zayden sat at a table and the latter two began to recount the events of the past, beginning with her attempt to rob Zayden. Zeela told most of the story and Caius was quite content to remain silent and absorb every word of it. He seemed quite impressed with Zayden quickness in learning fighting, remarking that he believed he would have made a great member of the Fighters Guild. When the story was done, Zeela excused herself for an early night's rest and left the two men to themselves.

"I must say, Zayden," said Caius after left. "Seeing you again, as you now are, pleases me greatly. It reaffirms all that I have done these past months. You could not have known it then, but when I refused to send you out to your doom for that damn prophecy, I knew it was finally my time to make a change for the better. It was only a few days after we first met that I left the city for my journey north. Now to come back and to see you better than I left you!"

"Truth be told," said Zayden, "Zeela was the sole push for all this. I left you that day feeling hopeless and without purpose or direction. In all likelihood, were it not for her, I would be another drunk somewhere in the market, waiting for an end. She might have forced me down this path but, in the end, I am glad for it. I took it upon myself to find purpose and meaning in this new way of life, even if it is not ideal."

"Such is how most of us thrive in this world, Zayden. Some are able to press on and fulfil their dreams, and for them I am happy. But for the rest of us, dreams are not an option. Instead, we must make due with our lots in life and try to create happiness and purpose in it. Yes, Zeela is a remarkable woman. I have known her for years. She will make for you a great life companion."

Zayden chuckled at the old man's choice of words. "You make it sound like we are lovers, Cauis," he laughed. "Nothing could be further than the truth."

"Truly? I think not! You may not recognize it yet, Zayden, but she cares for you greatly. And I think you care for her as well."

"Of course I care for her. I owe everything to her."

"That is not what I mean and you know it! You will see, my friend. I've been around a lot longer than you. Love can come mysteriously at first, sometimes when you don't realize it. But you will. And when love is strong you will want for nothing else in this world, and you will do everything to keep it."

Caius stood up and said goodnight to Zayden, promising that he would return in a week to hear how well his first guild assignment went. Zayden returned to his small, empty quarters that night filled with unease of what this new future in the guild would bring. He knew, though, that he had friends to support him. He knew he had Zeela

* * *

_[Author's Note] Sorry for the delay in posting. Computer trouble on my desktop stopped my progress for this chapter. Thankfully I had it saved on a tablet. Chapter 6 will have to be started over, however. I'll endeavor to post it in a more timely fashion._


	6. First Assignment

Chapter 6: First Assignment

Sugar-Lips Habasi had personally selected the people to accompany her in this job. First was Phane Rielle, the old Breton Wet Ear that usually worked behind the bar serving drinks. His official capacity in the Thieves Guild was to be a middle man to pay so that existing bounties of other members may be erased. Next was Sottilde, the tall red haired Nord woman that greeted Zayden when he first entered the South Wall. These two would act as defacto negotiators for their task.

Next was Tappius Esdrecus. He was a tanned, shaven head Imperial that frequented the cantina. He was strong and was usually seen with a sword and shield. He was not a member of the Thieves Guild but for a price he was willing to act as muscle with the fifth and final member, Zayden.

The job was simple enough: collect dues. North of Balmora, past Cladera, past Buckmoth Legion Fort, and into the gray Ashlands was a major city named Ald'Ruhn. A chapter of the Thieves Guild operated within the city in an inn called "The Rat In the Pot." Over the past few months the region's ash storms have ramped up, both in intensity and frequency. While it is normal to have a season of stronger winds during the year, this one came too early for the locals' liking.

This had caused some locals to worry, some of them to an extreme. As a result, there had been a rise in unsanctioned criminal activity. There also had been a growing number of businesses becoming late in payments of protection money. Couple all this with a handful of thieves unwilling to leave their homes due to superstition and the guild bureau in Ald'Ruhn was left with no choice but to call for outside help.

Sugar-Lips received correspondence from Ald'Ruhn the day Zayden was promoted to blackcap. She offered, as a show of good faith and honor among thieves, to come to Ald'Ruhn personally and help free of charge. It was just her luck that Zayden became blackcap when he did for she saw this, a simple city shakedown, as a perfect opportunity to put his skills to the test.

In the three days leading up to their departure from Balmora, Zeela gave Zayden one final refresher of everything she had taught him. They trained and sparred just as they had done and she was pleased to see that everything had stuck. The only thing she was worried about going forward was the possibility of him taking a life in his line of work as a racketeer. The Thieves guild was no assassin group, and though it is rare for a thief to kill on the job, it was not unheard of. And throughout her training with Zayden, not once was the topic of killing ever brought up. She reassured herself that his skills were good enough for him to avoid killing, but the possibility still lingered.

Sugar-Lips assembled her party early in the morning, had everyone eat a quick breakfast, and pack some food away for the journey north. Even by silt strider, following the most direct path along main roads, it would take nearly all the daylight they had to reach their destination. Balmora was just waking up and shops were beginning to open their doors as the party left the South Wall. Zeela made it a point to walk Zayden to the strider platform. She was uncharacteristically overbearing and protective of her student that morning and Zayden was quick to notice.

"Please, Zeela, enough," Zayden pleaded as he followed the group to the southern end of Balmora. "It's a simple enough job. Sugar-Lips assures me that trouble on these kind of jobs is rare. Honestly, I do not understand your behavior right now."

"You're my student," she quickly answered. "I've put a lot of time and effort into you. I have a vested interest in seeing you perform well. It reflects well upon me, in the end." She spoke with the same confident tone as always but this morning something else tinged her words. Uneasiness? Worry?

"You have taught me well," Zayden reassured. "I'll come back without a scratch, your reputation similarly untarnished."

"It's not just about me, Zayden. I wanted to make sure that you…" She paused to search for the right words. She feared saying too much or being too direct would plant seeds of doubt in Zayden. "Just keep your wits about you. Prepare yourself for the unexpected-"

Sugar-Lips suddenly halted in place and spun around. "Zeela!" she called out, causing everyone to jump a little. "You are not part of mission. You are in charge of South Wall while we are away. Go back!"

"Y-Yes, ma'am," Zeela relented, giving Zayden one last glance before turning and heading back east.

Sugar-Lips groaned in annoyance once she was out of earshot. "Zeela never act in this way before," she commented aloud. "Never act so foolishly." She then turned her gaze to Zayden and added "Khajiit blames you, Imperial," before pivoting back around and continuing forward, leaving everyone else to catch up.

"Me?" Zayden asked. "What have I done?"

His question was met by Sottilde. "Stop playing dumb," she said. "You know Zeela has never taken up an apprentice before you." Zayden hadn't known this. "You clearly mean something special to her," she added with a hint of… jealousy?

"Of course I do. You heard it from her lips just now. I am a 'valuable asset,'" he mocked. "One she doesn't want to lose her investment on. I have a debt to pay, after all."

This was met by a swift yet friendly punch to the shoulder by Tappius. "I'm starting to think you are as stupid as you act," he joked. "Think about it for more than two seconds, won't you? Why would a woman like Zeela waste more than a passing glance on some from-nothing slub like you unless…" He left the end of that sentence open for Zayden to finish. He gave back only a blank stare.

"By the gods!" Tappius groaned. "Because she sees something special in you, and not just profit. Apparently everyone but you recognizes this. Zeela could have left you in the streets, from what I've heard. Sugar-Lips could have assigned you to any one of the others to train you in the basics. But she chose Zeela and Zeela chose you. Think about that, Imperial, and if you have any sense left in you you will take advantage of your good fortune."

A spattering of amused groans came from the women and a chuckle from the Breton Phane. Though they all knew and tacitly agreed with what Tappius was bluntly getting at they tried not to acknowledge it. The only one not fully grasping the implications was Zayden himself. It was hard for him to imagine Zeela seeing him as anything more than a means to an end. That was how she had always treated him. Was there something he was not noticing all this time?

A silt strider stood waiting at the platform for the group of thieves. It had been in wait for nearly an hour at that point and, much to the chagrin of the other residents of Balmora, was not accepting any other patrons. Sugar-Lips had personally rented out the beast for she and her party alone. Once the group boarded and half payment was made (the other half being promised at the end of the journey,) the beastmaster mustered the strider forward on their day-long voyage.

It started off heading west, making a brief fording of the River Odai before reconnecting to the main road. When the road split the company cut north, following this new winding road for many unhaulted hours. When the sun reached near its zenith the city of Caldera was coming into view, marking a halfway point in the journey.

The city of Caldera, as its name would imply, was situated near the center of a large crater of a long dormant volcano. It was an Imperial mining town constructed near an ebony mine to the west. Nearly all the town's inhabitants were miners and their families. Caldrea also served as a place of rest for travellers going between Balmora and Ald'Ruhn.

The silt strider bent its slender legs down slightly to pass under and through the main gate of the city. A wide main street cut through the center of Caldera making only one gentle bend left before leading to the city's other end. People cleared the street to allow the beast by but otherwise paid it little mind, this being a common enough occurrence.

The strider stopped and bent fully down to the ground to allow the company thirty minutes to get out and stretch, get food or water, or go to the facilities. Sugar-Lips charged Zayden and Tappius to refill water skins and the others to gather food sundries for the remaining half of the voyage. The tasks were done in quick order and everyone was given a chance to visit any public restrooms. The company was back and ready to continue within twenty minutes.

The strider ducked beneath another gate as it left Caldera and continued to follow the road northwest. Beyond this point was a wide valley of the West Gash region. Unlike Balmora, which was bordered to the west by the swamps of the Bitter Coast and a tapering sliver of the volcanic Molag Amur, everything north of Caldera, as far as the horizon, was the rocky scrubland the West Gash was known for. This of course would diminish as the hours past and the borders of the region to the north grew larger in view.

A distinct range of gray-tipped mountains spanned from east to west, forcing the strider to head west and find the pass through the range into the Ashlands to the north. This would come in the late afternoon when the company finally came upon the main pass into the next region. It was a relatively narrow and straight crevasse in the very rock, as if a great axe fell from the sky and cleaved the way.

The strider entered the passage and almost immediately everyone took notice of the warm, dry breeze that blew from ahead, tinged with the scent of ash. As the beast lumbered forward the strength of the wind continued to steadily grow. Near the crevass's midpoint did the winds reach their peak of near constant gale force. Ash and dirt was picked up and swirled upward in tall thin columns that thrashed against the stalagmite stone pillars to the left and right. What trees remained in such a wind tunnel looked malnourished and scant of leaves.

At long last the passage ended and opened up into the Ashlands proper. While the winds certainly subsided the view before the company was of no reward. Gone was the green grass and the leaves of trees. What few trees now remained were charred thin husks stripped of all vegetation. What flora that could exist in this climate were low thick thorny vines and a type of algae that grew in occasional bubbling pools of thick water. All of this was blanketed under a dull, gray overcast sky.

Zayden asked the others of his company if any of them had been to this region before. Sugar-Lips said she had multiple times; always brief stints of no more than a few days, always for business purposes. Tappius similarly had been in the Ashlands only once. He went as far north as Maar Gan working as protection for a trade caravan. For Zayden and all the others, however, it was their first time in the Ashlands.

From this point forward the main roads of travel became less distinct, the avenues often becoming windswept and thinly carpeted by dirt and dust. The beastmaster, however, had taken such paths too many times to keep count. Even if in the dead of night and in the midst of an ash storm, he would boast, he could navigate the region. He followed the faded path with strong certainty for the remaining hours of daylight bringing the company to Ald'Ruhn.

The city's architecture was a stark difference to the mud and clay buildings of Balmora. The majority of structures were made from the hollowed out carapaces of large bug creatures. Many of them, Zayden would later find out, were hundreds of years old, sometimes passed down through generations of individual families. The largest structure of Ald'Ruhn was similarly made thousands of years ago from the shell of an Emperor land-crab dubbed "Skar," a shell that measured an astonishing thousand yards across.

Much like in Balmora, a tall obelisk landing near the southern tip of the city accepted the silt strider at the end of its journey. Sugar-Lips gave the rider his remaining fee as the rest of the company filed off and down the stairwell to the ground below. There they all waited for Sugar-Lips to once more lead the way to their meeting place of the Ald'Ruhn Thieves Guild: the Rat In The Pot inn. As it was, the inn was mere minutes from the strider platform.

The inn opened up into a split-level foyer with a stairwell leading doward into a large open eating area and a stairwell leading up to the bar. The company headed up and Sugar-Lips was met with a few warm greetings from patrons and workers alike. The inn's proprietor, a Breton woman named Lirielle, informed the company that Aengoth was already in the private room and that food and drink would be served shortly.

A third narrow stairwell near the back of the main bar area led down to the inn's cellar. Two of the long walls were lined with large casks. In the center of the room a small table and stools were set up just ahead of the company's arrival. Sitting at the table's far end was the male Bosmer Aengoth "the Jeweler." His nickname, as Zayden would learn later that evening, came from the elf's personal obsession with jewels, both as a thing of study and as prizes to steal. Couple this with his taste in dress, tonight being black tailcoat and pants, and the name only seemed to make sense.

Aengoth greeted the company with similar warmth, inviting everyone to take a seat. Moments after everyone was settled the proprietor descended down the stairs and served everyone a mug of ale and the table a platter of bread, butter, cheese and cold meats. Aengoth let everyone eat and drink for several minutes before getting down to business.

"Thank you all, once again, for coming on such short notice," he began. "Please believe me, I would not have called upon you to come so far if the need were not warranted. Ald'Ruhn had been fairly stable ever since the beginning of my leadership here. Such was the case during the pervious mastermind's tenure. But this trend, looking back with hindsight, had been slowly growing over the years. A few more lax payments than usual, nothing too out of the ordinary. But for the last few months, these storms… It's as if the storm brought a symptom of madness along with its winds."

Sugar-Lips moved her plate and untouched beer aside and leaned in toward Aengoth. "Tell Khajiit exactly what is happening," she asked the elf. "Aengoth had mentioned thieves refusing to work because of 'superstition.'"

"Hmm, yes," he conceited. "I was unsure of something at first and did not include it in my original letter to you. But after some thought I am now certain. I noticed something immediately about the thieves who were refusing to work: all of them are Dunmer. Same thing with the remaining late payments. Nearly all of them are Dunmer. Many will not say exactly what, if anything, is causing them trouble, but some have. They make reference to the rise of Sixth House. And Dagoth Ur."

Such is a tale better told by historians and poets. An artifact of immeasurable power, discovered ages ago in the center of Red Mountain. A dispute of ownership between demigods. A cult long disgraced, a Tribunal's legitimacy in question. The death of an elven hero. Accounts of such things vary depending on the teller's race and faith but a common thread runs through them all: a legend of a great evil figure named Dagoth Ur and his dreaded fabled return to power. Zeela had explained to Zayden, when asked, about her people and their beliefs but not even she believed much of it.

"I have been thus far unable to change much of the Dumners' minds on this. This has gone on too long and I am losing my control of the situation. Your thieves in Balmora are the closest I could call upon. Not to mention your track record, Sugar-Lips, in keeping payments steady is beyond doubt. Whatever you can do to help…"

"Khajiit shall do everything she can," Sugar-Lips reassured Aengoth. "Tell Khajiit what late payments remain." Mugs and plates were pushed aside on the table creating enough room to lay out a map of Ald'Ruhn. Every house, shop, and building was stamped with a shadowmark. In addition there were seven locations marked with a distinct red "X."

"These locations are the remaining holdouts," Aengoth explained. "Three businesses, four households."

Sugar-Lips let everyone get a good look at the map before she stood up from the table and began rolling it back up. "There is room with four bunk beds in lower floor," she stated to everyone. "They will be quarters for time in Ald'Ruhn. Khajiit will go to one now and study map. Rest of you, if you want, eat and drink by complement of Aengoth. Be sober for work tomorrow." The company chuckled at the last order, Sugar-Lips managing a smirk herself.

The Khajiit took the map and her drink and followed Aengoth back to the bar level and down the main stairwell to her quarters. Zayden and the others retreated back to the bar upstairs and ordered another round of ale. Two more rounds would follow before the night's end.

-o0o-

Sugar-Lips had the map and information on the remaining holdouts well memorized by the next morning. The company awoke before first light and ate a filling breakfast with plenty of water. The ashlands were like a desert and retained little heat during the night. If volcanic winds did not blow nights could get very cold. Similarly, on clear days with little to no cloud cover the heat could rise significantly. Today would be such a day, the first break of sun Ald'Ruhn would have had in over a week. Sugar-Lips hoped this would bring the city's people in higher spirits and make her job easier.

Zayden, for the first time after arriving in Vvardenfell, could see his breath in the pre-dawn air. Sugar-Lips, as always, led the group out of the inn and into the mostly empty morning streets. Phane and Sottilde followed the Khajiit closely leaving the two "thugs," Tappius and Zayden, to cover the rear. Tappius had drunk more than the others the previous night and was presently regretting it.

At this early hour most of the city's inhabitants were still asleep and some of the shops were beginning to open their doors. Sugar-Lips counted on this. With any luck she would tackle all the shops first before customers began showing up. Sanctioned by the local guard or not, the presence of Thieves Guild racketeers tended to draw ire. Get a few angry townsfolk together, direct their focus on a single foe, and the possibility of violence breaking out was all too real.

The group reached their first shop just as light was first breaking. It was a pawnbroker shop owned by a Dunmer man, Daynes Redothril. The shop was just located outside the main entrance of Skar, part of the building covered overhead by the wide brim of the shell. Only up close could one truly take in the massive size of this carapice. It made Zayden shiver at the thought of such an enormous creature being alive and just what it would have taken to kill it thousands of years ago.

Sugar-Lips ordered Zayden and Tappius to keep their eyes on the street and stand guard while she, Phane, and Sottilde approached the shop door. The Khajiit gave the door a few forceful knocks and for a minute there came no answer. When she knocked a second time a muffled voice sounded from the other side. "Who's there?" he called out. "The store's not open yet. Come back in two hours!"

"We not here for business," Sugar-Lips replied. "Khajiit come to collect dues."

Another moment of silence passed before the door unlocked and parted slightly, the man poking his head through. "Wait, what dues? Who in Oblivion are you?"

"Khajiit is Sugar-Lips, Mastermind in Balmora. The Jeweler called us to collect. Said you were giving him trouble."

"Trouble? W-Wait, hold on. I can explain this." Daynes opened the door fully and met Sugar-Lips face-to-face outside. "Please believe me, I would have paid my dues last week were it not for a customer of mine. He still owes me a lot of money."

"Khajiit not interested in excuses," she hissed.

"No, it's the truth! Honest! It was another Dunmer. Lenas Sarandas. I sold him two stones: one raw glass, one raw ebony. Her paid half then and promised to pay half later. That was over a week ago and I can't get the bastard to pay. I've tried banging on his door and he's either not home or is not answering. He owes me one hundred fifty gold, more than enough to pay what I owe. Y-You're all thieves, yes? I could tell you where he lives. You guys can go and steal the money he owes me. Or if not, steal back the glass and ebony. I can sell it to someone else by the end of the day and pay off Aengoth immediately."

"Now you tell Khajiit what to do?! Tell Khajiit to steal back what he already owes?"

"It's my money! He and I had a deal and he's reneged on it! If anyone deserves to be shaken down it's him! P-Please, believe me, I have no intention of not paying. It's just that bastard not keeping his word"

Sugar-Lips growled with annoyance but ultimately found the Dunmer's story plausible. "Where is this Lenas?"

"Back down the street. Take the second street on the right, first house on the left."

"Tappius! You and Phane stay with Daynes. Zayden, Sottilde, we go to Lenas's house."

Tappius approached Daynes, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and forced him back inside, Phane following them in. Sugar-Lips followed her directions and led Sottilde and Zayden back down the street heading south. "Daynes speaks the truth," she told the others. "Khajiit recognize name on map. He told correct house of Lenas."

"How will we collect the money from him?" Zayden asked.

"Do not be stupid. We are thieves and Zayden is racketeer. We will do what we must. We either take money he owes or items back."

Zayden found himself chuckling. "Looks like these blades of mine might finally get some use… To wound, of course, ma'am," he quickly added at the end. Sugar-Lips grinned.

The trio followed to the intended house and this time Zayden approached the door. He gripped his right hand around the dagger on the right side of his hip. With his left hand he gave the door three hard wacks. To no one's surprise there came no answer. Another three knocks yielded the same results.

"Pick the lock," the Khajiit commanded. "We will stand watch." Sottilde and Sugar-Lips turned to face the street, blocking Zayden from view and allowing him to crouch down in front of the door. He retrieved a pick from a small stitched pocket in his left sleeve cuff and began his work. Though he had plenty of practice with training locks, this would be Zayden's first true lock pick. He wondered how long it would-

*ping*

Three pins in and the tumbler suddenly rotated freely. "Wow, that was surprisingly easy," Zayden whispered to himself. "Door's open, ma'am."

"Khajiit stay lookout outside. Sottilde go inside. Zayden protect her. Do what you must."

Zayden tucked away his pick and, returning a hand to his dagger hilt gently opened the door. The single-room house was clearly uninhabited but there was an open stairway to the left that led to a basement where Lenas could be sleeping. "I'll look around here first," said the Nord. "Watch my back, Zayden."

Sottilde entered the house and began to quietly look around for the items of question. After a few minutes of checking the most obvious places first she found the raw glass and ebony tucked away in a small box atop a wardrobe. "Found the stuff. Hmm, ebony's heavier than it looks." She quickly slipped the stones into pockets hidden within her robe."Let's go, Zayden."

"Wait," said Zayden, noticing a coin purse on a nearby table. He stepped quietly to it and lifted it up. "Heavy as well," he commented. "At least a hundred coins, if I had to guess… We'll take this too. Payment for wasting our time."

"I like the way you think," Sottilde said with a smirk, "now let's go." The two left the room as quietly as mice, locking the door behind them. Lenas, sleeping downstairs, would not know until hours later that he had been robbed.

The three made their way back up the street with a slightly quickened pace. "Success?" asked Sugar-Lips.

"Yes," Sottilde replied. "I found the glass and ebony. And Zayden even took a coin purse for himself."

"Truly? Khajiit would not have expected this from Zayden."

"Neither would I, before today," Zayden agreed, "but something felt right about it in the moment. The bastard tried to skimp out on a deal and he gets robs in retribution. Seemed fair to me."

"Now Zayden think like thief. Coin purse yours to keep, then. Congratulations on first steal. Now we bring back glass and ebony to Daynes."

Zayden never would have guessed a simple purse grab would bring him this much satisfaction. Perhaps this is the "thrill" some thieves feel. It surprised Zayden just how intense the feeling was. He could easily find himself becoming addicted to it. He was barely containing the grin on his face presently. But as the three continued back toward the pawnbroker shop, a new realization swept through Zayden and the temptation, swelled by the thrill of his first theft, was too great to pass up.

"... Hey, Sottilde?" Zayden said from the moment of silence. "You said the ebony was heavy when you picked it up. How heavy do you think it is?"

"Maybe ten pounds, at least?" Sottilde guessed.

"And the glass chunk?"

"Not even half that, I guess. Why do you ask?"

"I… Sugar-Lips, I think I have an idea. If you will allow it, when we return to Daynes, let me handle the negotiation."

Sugar-Lips stopped dead in her tracks and pivoted around on her toes with lightning quickness. "'Negotiation?' What nonsense is this?" she nearly hissed at Zayden. "What does Imperial ask of me?"

"Please, Mastermind, hear me out. That coin purse I snatched? It had to have at least one hundred coins in it, which is just about what Daynes owes in dues. Well, when we stopped in Caldrea, I overheard a couple of traders talking. One of them said that ebony production in another mine in Vvardenfell was slowing down, raising the value of raw ebony in Caldera to that similar of raw glass: twenty gold per pound! Sottilde, you said it yourself. That hunk of ebony has to be worth at least two hundred by weight alone! And if I'm wrong, that and the glass together will definitely get us more gold than giving them back to Daynes. I say we give him the coin purse first and, if that isn't enough, we'll take it back and give him the rocks. We stand to gain either way."

Sugar-Lips pondered the proposition for a brief moment, purring to herself as she did. "Hmm, yes," she whispered aloud. "Khajiit sees… Very well, Zayden. Khajiit accepts plan. But Khajiit handles negotiation. Understood?"

"Understood…" Zayden relented.

It would be another few minutes before the trio returned to the pawnbroker shop. Daynes, flanked on both sides by Phane and Tappius, sat patiently on the steps in front of the shop's door, rising to their feet when Sugar-Lips and company came into view.

"Welcome back," Phane greeted. "Did all go well?"

Sugar-Lips nodded to Zayden and he tossed into Daynes's hands the coin purse. "Count out coins," she commanded the Dunmer. "Phane will go inside with you. Give what is owed to Phane, then we leave." The Dunmer did as instructed, Phane leading him forward back inside the shop. Only Phane reemerged a few minutes later.

"The coin purse was just under," he explained as he returned to the group, "but he could easily scrounge up the remainder."

"Which leaves him paid up and us with stones," the Khajiit grinned. "We will sell in Caldera on return journey." She paused for a brief moment to groom the fur around her left eye before continuing. "Now, let us move on. Tappius and Phane lead." The next on their list was another business not far away, just one street over. The two men took point, leading the two women and Zayden to follow.

As the group got underway Sugar-Lips held back just long enough to start walking close beside Zayden and Sottilde. "Khajiit still 'Mastermind,'" she reminded Zayden, "and Khajiit will have no up-starts on first assignment, even if 'Blackcap.'"

Zayden grumbled an irritated but affirming grunt in response, lighting a half-smoked cigar he produced from a pocket. "Yes, ma'am…" he said through clenched teeth.

"But Khajiit will remember Zayden picking lock fast," she then added. "Khajiit will remember Zayden making first steal. Zeela's teachings having good effect. And effort will not go unrewarded." Zayden could have sworn seeing the faintest of grins on Sugar-Lips face before she suddenly quickened her pace and caught up with the two in front. Zayden could not help but begin to grin himself, but it was a tempered grin. It stung slightly to not get full credit for his work, but this was his first assignment. There would be plenty of chances to prove his mettle in the future.

-o0o-

The light of the sun was now fully unhindered in its height in the sky by the time the company was making its way to the second business on their list. While under such light one could warm themselves there blew a persistent tundra wind that kept everyone chilled. Regardless the city was beginning to fully wake. Pedestrians were coming out into the street and other various shops were opening up for the day's business.

One such business, one street over from the pawnbroker, was a clothing shop owned by another Dunmer; a woman named Bevene Releth. By this hour the door to her shop was wide open but no customers had yet come. Once again Zayden and Tappius were ordered to stand guard outside as the others entered. Ten minutes was all it took for the dues to be collected. Sugar-Lips described the exchange as quick and easy when she and Sottilde reemerged.

Bevene, apparently, told much the same story as Daynes. Lenas was beginning to grow an untrustworthy reputation of owing other people money and Bevene was just another victim of his delinquency. Thankfully for her she had come into enough money the day before yesterday to pay dues.

The company's third and final business stop was a smith owned by Dandera Selaro. Events played out just as the last stop and with no resistance whatsoever. While Tappius began to bemoan the tedium and lack of action, Zayden began to wonder if such lack of resistance was normal. When he later asked Sugar-Lips she confirmed that, indeed, it was. Most people, save for the young and the senile, usually avoid conflict whenever possible and due collection was, by most accounts, a uneventful affair.

With the final business done the company tackled their first residential mark. For this they traveled across the width of the city east to an impoverished part of Ald'Ruhn. These streets were more narrow and ever more crowded. Many groups of sitting people lined each side of the street, usually smoking and drinking. Zayden quickly noticed he and his company were getting many more glances and stares. Most were brief and people turning cheek quickly, but others locked their eyes and glared. Tappius was also quick to notice this.

"I think we're not appreciated here," he said aloud to no one person in particular.

"Less money people have," Sugar-Lips answered, "more they do not want it taken. But dues are dues. All must pay what they owe."

"Owe?" Tappius questioned. "I was never made aware the protection money your guild collects was something people volunteered to pay." Sugar-Lips said nothing and an odd silence fell over the group. Zayden shifted his eyes between his fellow thieves and noticed a panged look between them. Tappius, the outsider to this company, clearly struck a nerve in everyone else. He continued regardless. "What exactly do people lose when they refuse to pay?"

Phane jumped in to answer. "Protection! And insurance," he said with an annoyed huff. "What the people pay helps us fund our efforts to cull petty, uncontrolled crime. If such things happen to those under our protection, we compensate them for what has been lost."

"And who can the people pay to protect themselves from your band?"

Sugar-Lips craned her head back and over her right shoulder to look Tappius in the eye all the while keeping her pace forward. Her demeanor remained calm in the face of his interrogation. "Hypocrite that Imperial is," she shot back, "given what he is doing presently. What he volunteered and is being paid to do."

"A job is a job," he chuckled. "Believe me, 'Mastermind,' I'm not here to destabilize or poke holes in your organization. Just a little curiosity. I'll be a good boy and follow orders."

"Then follow this one: Stop asking so many questions. Especially within earshot of others." She motioned her eyes to the poor people of Ald'Ruhn around them before looking back forward. The company was receiving even more unwelcome looks. "Curiosity kills the khajiit."

The company followed the street into a type of small cul-de-sac with tightly spaced duplex houses. Their next mark, an Imperial woman named Pellecia Aurrus, lived in the bottom floor of one of these buildings. Sugar-Lips approached the intended door and after a single bout of knocking the woman in question answered the door. She quickly began apologising the moment she realized what everyone was here for. No excuses, just apologies. Once more the three entered and the two Imperials stood guard outside.

Zayden held off for a few minutes before deciding to confront Tappius himself. "The cat's not wrong," Zayden warned him. "It's not wise to second-guess the Thieves Guild. Especially when you elected to do this job."

Again Tappius chuckled with a smile and without tone of uneasiness. "You never ask questions of your elders or superiors?" he asked Zayden. "Just do everything you're told, do you?"

"I have the Thieves Guild to thank for everything I have. Without it I would probably be without a coin to my name, slumming the streets of Balmora."

"Which is, I'm sure, exactly what they would like you to believe. I, Zayden, have never pledged myself to anyone or anything my entire life. For people and things, for money, yes. But never unquestioningly, or without any promise of a deal. One should always question oneself and ask why they do what they do. I know why I fight and kill, Zayden… Because I love to fight. And killing comes with the territory. There's nothing I love more in the world than the thrill of a good fight. Not even wine or women stand above it. And if I die then so be it." Zayden chuckled, unsure if Tappius was being serious. "So then answer me, Zayden. Why did you join your guild?"

"Because… I suppose because when Zeela offered me a place in the guild I could not refuse her," Zayden replied with a smirk.

Now Tappius laughed. "Fool's love," he joked. "I've been told from others the event in question. The elf steals your money, then your future, and now it seems you're trying to steal her for yourself!"

"N-No, that's not-"

"Not a bad trophy, I'll admit. I suppose she is beautiful. For an elf, at least."

"This is twice now you've implied I should claim Zeela for myself. What do you care for?"

"I don't, really. Just saying, from one Imperial to another, she's 'ripe for conquest,' and she may be thankful for your boldness of the act... Speaking of 'ripe,' feast your gaze on that one there!" Zayden, in the moment, was thankful for the distraction.

Down the same street the company had entered the cul-de-sac came stumbling a lone, young Imperial boy, one clearly coming off a long night of drinking. He nearly fell off his feet twice before coming to a wobbling stop after laying eyes on both Tappius and Zayden. His care-free demeanor quickly faded and, after taking another moment to compose himself, made his way to the two of them.

"Who are you two?" the boy slurred at them. "This is m-my house. A-And you two don't live in this neighborhood. What are you doing here?"

"Guild business," Zayden answered simply. "You Pellecia's boy?"

"Y-Yessss, and I do not approve of your being here. M-My mother-"

"Owes guild protection money. Your approval is irrelevant. So unless you can contribute to paying her dues, you have no business here."

"Now w-wait a moment! I've been trying to tell her for months we no longer need your protection, thieves. Nor anyone in this neighborhood, for that matter! We protect our own here. We don't need you."

Tappius glanced around him. Some of the locals had stopped to overhear the boy's speech. Once they were met with Tappius's gaze they quickly looked away and moved on. "No one seems to agree with you, boy. They seem unwilling to defend you."

"But t-they will! In time, they will. L-Leave us, you thugs."

"I take orders from the Khajiit inside," Zayden interrupted. "I don't take orders from you. We should be on our way in a little while."

"I said-!" The boy took a bold step forward and was met with both Zayden and Tappius reaching for their swords.

"Don't be a fool," Tappius warned. "Go back and get yourself another drink. No sense throwing your life away."

"You wouldn't dare…" the boy growled.

The boy took another step forward and Zayden snapped into action. With one fluid motion he unsheathed his sword for the first time and made a wide horizontal swing in front of him. The very tip of the blade nicked the bridge of the boy's nose. The boy jumped and fell backwards, clutching his new wound. He gave a few muffled curses before checking his now bloody hand. A crowd was beginning to form.

"Y-You cut me!" the boy gasped. "You lunatics! You bastards!"

"Next cut will be deeper," Zayden threatened. "Get. Lost."

The boy stumbled back to his feet and fled back up the street, babbling the whole way. Zayden watched him go the whole way through unblinking eyes, eyes that then turned to the people now surrounding from a distance. Onlookers kept their distance from the two Imperials but refused to disperse. They now looked on with glaring eyes. "Perhaps the boy was right…" Zayden whispered aloud. "These people look like they want to rip me apart..." Zayden glanced at his sword and noticed the tip of the blade was splattered with a small amount of blood. He whipped it off with a corner of his cloak before sheathing it.

"We are strangers here," Tappius reminded. "They don't know we're Thieves Guild. Not that it matters much now. I hope the cat finishes up soon…" His wish would come true a few minutes later. Sugar-Lips, Sottilde, and Phant reemerged from the house seemingly pleased with their work, only to quickly change demeanor when spying the crowd.

"What has happened?" asked Sugar-Lips.

"No time to explain now," Zayden answered. "We need to get out of here. Do you remember a quick way out of this place?"

"Follow Khajiit."

Sugar-Lips led the others at a quickened pace across the cul-de-sac bearing north. Taking the way back down the street was no longer a possibility. The crowd of angry onlookers had grown and filled it completely. Their only option now was to snake their way through the thin walkways between houses. These paths were barely wide enough for two to walk abreast. These blocks between the streets, thankfully, were sensibly built and were easy to navigate if one knew the cardinal directions.

The five hurried on and spoke nothing for several minutes until they finally made their way back to Skar. They regrouped by a section of the wall near the main entrance. Once everyone had a moment to catch their breath did Zayden recall everything that had happened with Tappius confirming the events. Sugar-Lips said little during the retelling and then, once complete, said even less. Her only remaining thought on the matter was to say "What is done is done," and to once more lead the group to their next mark, bearing back south down Ald'Ruhn main boulevard.

This reaction, or lack thereof, left Zayden perplexed. He was fully expecting a scolding for having bloodied up a boy. But to receive so little backlash compelled him to demand answers. He jogged toward the head of the group to come abreast with Sugar-Lips.

"Mastermind, please. I'm confused. Was I not in the wrong with what I did? That I used my blade on the boy?"

"If Khajiit had disapproved," Sugar-Lips answered, "Khajiit would have made Zayden bloody. Or let onlookers bloody you themselves. If Zayden's story is truth than Khajiit pleased with conduct." Complements from Sugar-Lips Habasi were rare but pointent and Zayden just received his second one today.

The company continued its way toward their location, another residential home south of the market district. It was the same middle-wealth district back near the southeast entrance of Ald'Ruhn, within short walking distance of the strider platform and The Rat in the Pot. Once this spot was complete only two more residences in this district were left. This first home belonged to an older Dunmer woman named Hanarai Assultlanipal. Zayden knew such longer surnames usually came from Ashlanders, tribal Dunmer that have lived for many generations in the Ashland wilds.

The woman was quick to answer the door and was polite to invite the usual three inside. Once alone with Tappius again, Zayden asked of him the same thing he had asked Sugar-Lips; if he had done right in taking a swing at the boy. Tappius seemed, if anything, just as pleased at Zayden's choice of action.

"The boy, drunk as he may have been, tried to take you on," he explained. "So you swung at him, gave him a bloody nose, and he went crying off! Ha ha ha! No more trouble! One could not ask for a better outcome! I'm not sure I could have pulled off such a precise wounding cut myself!"

"But that's just it!" Zayden interjected, a new swell of anxiousness washing over his face and voice. "There's something about that cut I haven't mentioned. I never actually intended to wound the boy! I swung the blade with the full intention to kill! And what's worse is that I never even thought about doing it. I just did it! The only reason I didn't kill him was because I misjudged the length of the blade. If I swung too late… By the gods…."

"But Zayden…" said Tappius with caution, "you seemed so sure of yourself at the time, like everything was in control. I find it slightly hard to believe that-"

"I wasn't. I wasn't in control. All that training of the body and not enough of the mind controlling it."

"It's your first assignment. You're nervous. Take some deep breaths, try to calm yourself down. Everyone makes mistakes, but it's when you're nervous you make the biggest ones. These shakedown runs, I've been told, nearly always go off without incident. That kid was probably the worst of it."

Zayden took a moment to close his eyes and take deep even breaths in through the nose and out through the mouth. He kept it going for nearly a full minute and by then the Imperial's frayed nerves were finally beginning to mend. But then noises came from within Hanarai's home. First came the shattering of glass, the tumbling of furniture, then followed by a cacophony of shouts and yelling.

Zayden and Tappius reacted at once, both unsheathing their swords and the latter taking up his shield. "Me and my big mouth," Tappius groaned. "Get behind me, Zayden. I'll open the door." Zayden did as asked and Tappius inched toward the door, reaching out to the handle with his sword hand. Before he could touch it, though, another burst of yelling sounded and the door flew open, the three thieves spilling back outside.

"What in Oblivion is going on!?" Zayden shouted. The three came to a stop a few meters from the door before turning back to face it.

"We're not sure," Sottilde said back. "Everything was calm at first, business as usual. Then Sugar-Lips asked her about the Sixth House rumors and she just went off! She went into a rage!" Hanarai came rushing out of the house a moment later gripping a large meat cleaver in her left hand. She charged at Tappius first, he being the closest. She swung wildly at his shield, the blade slamming against it with dull thuds, screaming and grunting with each effort. The attacks were relentless but Tappius kept the shield steady and easily blocked every attempt.

Tappius made a few tackles forward with his shield, slamming its flat surface against the woman. Each caused her to stumble back a few steps but she came charging back each time. "Someone get her off me!" Tappius shouted. "Zayden!"

Zayden took a pair of steps toward the two and caught the woman's attention. Her fury and rage immediately turned to him and she began to charge again. Zayden quickly realized that something was indeed not well with her. Her movements were erratic and uncoordinated, her attacks wild and without form or forethought, her eyes glazed over and emotionless. Nothing he saw seemed to indicate that the woman was aware of what she was doing.

Hanarai made a long and heavy overhead chop once she was within striking range of Zayden. The attack was easily side-stepped and she went stumbling past. She turned and again made a similarly uncoordinated strike, one that was once again easily avoided. When she came in for a third charge Zayden dodged once more before deciding to finally putting an end to this. He swung his sword in a light arc toward her feet and struck her left ankle. The blow was "light" but deep enough to cut the flesh and send her collapsing forward onto her stomach.

The woman continued to wail and groan maddeningly, clutching her now bleeding leg. Zayden took this moment to rush in and kick out of her hand the meat cleaver. She began to curse and spit at Zayden for being a "blasphemer" and it was at about this time a hole in the surrounding onlookers opened up and a rush of Redoran guards came closing in, swords drawn and demanding answers.

Sugar-Lips with her cat like reflexes was quick to cut the guards off, present herself and her purpose here. Zayden kept a watchful eye on the writhing old woman as the Khajiit in quick but professional tones told about what had occurred. Tappius, Phane, and Sottilde similarly stepped in and qualified her story. A few minutes was all it took for the guards to be convinced.

"We will take her into custody, then," said their captain, distinguished by slightly more ornate bonemold armor. "If you have any more business today I suggest you continue it tomorrow. We've already heard word of one of your men this morning cutting someone else." Zayden forced himself to keep his stern gaze on the woman. "Allow time for gossip of this to simmer before you show yourself on these streets again."

"Khajiit understands," Sugar-Lips replied, "and thanks you for your understanding."

"Very good then." The captain turned to the two men to his right and ordered them to bind the woman by her wrists and ankles before carrying her off hanging from a pole like a hunted boar. She continued to wildly squirm, spit and curse the entire time, screaming the name of 'Sixth House' and 'Ur' as her voice faded away into the crowd of sullen onlookers. Once she was beyond sight and sound Sugar-Lips called everyone over to quickly order them to retreat to The Rat in the Pot, stating the rest of their work would be done tomorrow.

Just as they were ready to head off a fell voice came from the crowd. "Bastard!" All the thieves at once turned to its source. A lone figure emerged, one Zayden and Tappius recognized immediately. It was the boy from that morning, just as stumbling and drunk as before. Only now he sported a fresh, bloodied bandage across the bridge of his nose and a heavy wooden club in his right hand.

"Imperial! My mother wasn't enough for you, was it?!" he called out across the street. "You need to abuse old elven women too? You bastards left my mother and I with nothing left! All because you need your 'protection fee.' We don't want your kind here anymore!"

"Your drinking," Tappius called back, "leaves you without coin on your own. You didn't need our help!" As true as it might have been, Tappius's jab was met by a sharp hiss from Sugar-Lips. She then stepped forward and addressed the boy directly.

"Do not be foolish," she said, inadvertently echoing Tappius's earlier warning. "Boy was allowed to live earlier. Khajitt cannot promise this again."

"I have nothing to say to you yet, kitten!" the boy retorted, then turning his glaring eyes to Zayden. "It's him I want. I will deal with you once we're finished." The boy raised his club, clutching it with both hands, and charged Zayden.

Zayden took up a fighting stance and as the boy took his first swing Zayden immediately knew he made a fatal mistake. His earlier humiliation of the boy made Zayden too cocksure and made him overestimate how drunk the boy truly was. The club's first swing went chest high at first but then made a sudden dip and struck Zayden in his left femur bone. Zayden felt and heard the bone fracture and a shock of immense pain followed, so much so that it brought him crumbling to his knees and loosening the grip of his sword. This allowed the second swing, which struck his right hand, to disarm him. The third went for Zayden's head but this one, fortunately, went low as well and struck the collar bone, breaking it. All of this had occurred in mere seconds.

Zayden's vision went blurry as he collapsed and fell completely on his back. He knew he lucked out with the collar strike; a strike to the side of the head could have easily knocked him out, leaving him defenseless. Before Zayden's head hit the ground the boy raised the club to make another, overhead strike. Zayden, now in a blinding panic, raised his left arm to block the attack. The club struck with full force and broke both bones in his firearm, sending a even greater pain surging through Zayden's body.

This was bad. Zayden knew it could be another few seconds before the others jumped in to save him but by then it might already be too late. One good, true strike to the head now could be all it takes to kill him, immediately if not later. Zayden knew he could only block perhaps one more strike before he could defend himself no longer. As the next strike of the club fell Zayden with his right hand reached for his dagger. The club hit in nearly the same place on the left arm, bending the forearm to a forty-five degree angle. A new surge of pain blurred his vision even further.

The boy lifted his club for what would be the death blow. Zayden unsheathed his dagger and, at the club's apex ,Zayden lurched his body upright and his arm forward, plunging the blade between two ribs where roughly the heart would be. Zayden could not see the boy's face through his fading sight, only hear him give a sharp gasp of breath. As Zayden's world turned black he removed the blade from the boy's chest and thrust into it again. And again. And again.

And again.

And again.

And again…

-o0o-

Zayden had been tracing shapes with his finger in the shadows of the plaster ceiling above him for what seemed like hours... A rabbit, a guar, a cliff racer... It had been nearly all he had done since waking back up in his spartan quarters in Balmora. He had no recollection of time between waking up and his fight with the boy. The memories if it kept shooting back in intense burst, haunting him like a curse.

He craned his head to the left and looked once again at the things next to him on the floor. His clothes and weapons, still dirty with gray ashen soil, sat in a neat folded pile. Underneath his blanket he was naked but held together by stiff, hardened bandages on his right leg and left arm. Next to the clothes pile was a large and heavy leather coin pouch. Zayden earlier had tested its weight and guessed it held at least two hundred septems. He further guessed this was the profit of selling the raw ebony and glass, now awarded to him. Next to the coin purse was a clay pitcher of watered down ale with a clay mug.

Zayden forced himself through a dull but intense pain in his neck to sit himself upright and pour himself another drink. Each shoot of pain sent the blurry image of the dying boy back into his mind. He forced down his throat as much liquid as he could before he started feeling sick, waited for his stomach to settle, and drank again.

Zayden caught the sound of approaching footsteps from outside the door and pivoted around to face it. The door unlocked and holding another pitcher of ale and another mug was a dearly welcome face. "You're awake!" Zeela nearly gasped. She fell to her knees, nearly breaking the clay vessels as she put them down, and threw herself against Zayden to embrace him. Squeezing Zayden's body caused him a bit more pain but he remained silent and smiling. "I had been told you would ultimately be ok and that you'd wake up eventually. Just not exactly when!"

"How long have I been asleep for?" Zayden asked.

"It's about midday now, so… About two days, then. They brought you back to South Wall early yesterday morn on an overnight strider. By then you had been partially healed."

"Healed?" Zayden asked, Zeela breaking her embrace.

"Yes," Zeela answered. "After you went unconscious, Sugar-Lips brought you to a local healer in Ald'Ruhn. They were able to mend your broken bones, but not heal them completely, which is why you have these cast on for the moment. They were, however, able to save you from any permanent damage anywhere else. Another healer from the Balmora Mages Guild is set to come tomorrow morning and finish your healing. Afterward you should be good as new…"

Zayden had to scoff at the last line. "Unless they can erase memories, I don't think I will ever be the same again..." He reached for his mug and drained it, Zeela filling it and hers up after. "Sugar-Lips must have told you what had happened…"

"Yes…" Zeela whispered, her expression changing to deep sullen. "She did... And it's my fault it happened."

"What? How can that-?"

"Tappius told me how you reacted to cutting that boy, how you were doubting yourself. That's my failure. You are my first apprentice, Zayden. I know you've been told this… I spent all those months training you how to fight but I utterly failed to prepare you to fight. To do what is necessary… To kill… And look at you now, as you are…"

"... Such things are rare," said Zayden, trying to reassure her. "Everyone says that-"

"Yes!" Zeela interrupted. "But this does not take away from the fact that such things are rare. That's what we tell new recruits this to keep them from running away. The truth is, Zayden, that no matter how much we may act as the lesser of two evils, we still act as evil. And people hate us for it. We're only allowed to exist because we're only slightly more tolerable. And if we didn't hold a monopoly on crime we'd be hunted down like all other criminals... I should have prepared you for this, Zayden, but I failed. I failed you. I was a fool. For one that has lived for over sixty years one might assume some wisdom, but-" She trailed off in thought for a moment, her eyes falling down toward her mug. "I hope to rectify my mistake to you, Zayden. By one mean or another I shall."

Zeela paused to gain a moment's composure. "Your actions, however justified, have put us in a very uncomfortable position."

"Your in the uncomfortable position?!"

"Please, Zayden, listen to me! I might have put the debt of my knife over your head, but our master, Sugar-Lips, has invested much more. Lest you forget, she housed, fed, and allowed for your training for many months without asking anything in return, until this first assignment. Killing or not, your investment by her value has not yet made profit. You will still be expected to fulfil your investment value! And because I failed to harden you to death I have failed myself to your worth to Sugar-Lips."

"Zeela, you needn't worry yourself about-"

"Do not patronize me!" Zeela snapped. "Do not take this away from me! I was your master, Zayden. I, ultimately, am responsible for you, and you just killed a boy, in broad daylight, in the streets of Ald'Ruhn, and nearly got broken as a result!" Zayden forced his gaze to the ground and grimaced. "It was deemed 'lawful self-defence' by the guard and Sugar-Lips has given you her blessings and excused the act, but it should have never happened in the first place! And it is because of me!

I. Failed. You."

Zayden remained frozen and speechless. It was like the light of the sun burning away a fog. Zayden had always known Zeela as someone brimming with confidence and purpose. In her every step, in her every action, she never cast a hint of doubt. But now, in the face of what she saw as monumental failure, she crumbled. And it broke Zayden's heart to see her fall so far. He dreaded what she would say next.

Zeela snatched up her own pitcher and took a few large gulps to try and drown her sorrows before continuing. "We're it my choosing I would consider your debt to me fulfilled. But Sugar-Lips deems otherwise. I have half a mind to ignore the cat and help you escape. I could do you no more harm that way."

"I wish to stay!" Zayden finally managed to blurt forth.

"Wait!" Zeela yelped. "You may want to reconsider! Please listen… If you wish to remain in the Thieves Guild, know that it will be as my apprentice no further. I, as of this moment, resign my place as your master. In fact… You may very well never see me ever again."

"What are you talking about?" Zayden asked.

"I wish I did not have to put this upon you so abruptly, at such a time as now, but events are unfolding quickly… There has been a heist, Zayden, that has been eleven years in planning. A heist on a bank vault in Vivec. I was amongst the first three over a decade ago to conceive of the plan. Naturally, such a long-organized plot was conceived by fellow elves. We now have over twenty operatives work in conjunction to make this job happen, and in three days I leave for the Thieves Guild bureau in Vivec to begin our operation.

The job itself may take well over a year to set up before even attempting it. During such a time my contact with South Wall, Sugar-Lips, and you will be cut utterly and completely. Everyone will be ordered to act as if I have never existed…"

Zeela's gaze slowly turned to the items on the floor. "That coin purse?" she said. "Sugar-Lips told me you made your first steal: a piece of raw glass and ebony. I never would have thought you to actually take the plunge…" She forced another grin. "They sold the two pieces in Caldera, at your suggestion. Got about three hundred for it. And it's yours. That should last you a while on your own…

Now do you understand what is at stake, Zayden?" Zeela stressed. "In spite of my failure, I feel I have taught you enough to survive on your own in the world. Or in the guild, if you so choose. Either way, we will be separated for a long time. Maybe forever- Gods forbid- if things so south. In either choice, I stand by my decision. I revoke my titleage of 'Master' over you."

Silence deafened the room for what seemed an eternity and for an equal amount of time neither Zeela nor Zayden had the courage to look each other in the eye, both of them instead choosing to keep their gaze toward the ground and the ale between them. The tension was finally broken when Zayden reached for his pitcher and poured the last of his ale between the two of them.

"Let us assume for a moment," said Zayden in a quiet, cautious manner, "that you return from your heist. Would you come back to Balmora?"

"Normally, yes," said Zeela, "had this been a regular job. I would return to the business as usual before I took you on: protection shake-downs in the city and the occasional petty theft. Those kind of things. But a heist of this magnitude… It would require me to 'go dark' for a while. I spoke of this before. It helps being an elf in such circumstances," she remarked. "You can go dark for a few decades and return to the life of a thief still somewhat youthful."

"So that is what you would do? 'Go dark?' What would you do during that time? If I might ask…"

"Well…" Zeela shifted to lying on her side, taking a more relaxed position. "I would probably head off to another place and take up the role of a commoner. I'd find myself an older man for a husband and have a few children. By the time they grow up and move on, I will have fattened my husband into a happy, early grave, at which point I would slip back into the shadows and return to the profession I love."

Zeela said all of this with no hint of jest, but Zayden could not help himself from bursting into uncontrolled laughter. Zeela did not fully appreciate this. Even when she threw her drink into Zayden's face did he not fully stop laughing. "Forgive me, forgive me," Zayden said, continuing to chuckle, "but you speak of such things as if they are regular acts! As if you speak from experience!" He took another moment to catch his breath and stop laughing. "Although, to be fair, I have heard of elven women doing such things throughout their lifetimes. Some of them take on multiple husbands and families with shorter lived men."

"You should hear the tales of similar elven men," Zeela retorted. "Even 'monogamous' Altmer men can have upwards of nine human wives throughout their lifetime because they simply outlive them all!"

"But to have a husband and raise a family as a means to an end in itself?" asked Zayden. "That seems so alien to me."

"If you lived double the lifespan of your fellow men you might think otherwise. Besides, it's not as heartless as you put it. Yes, it fulfils a purpose and gives me a way to 'hide-in-plain-sight,' but…" She paused and sat back up, taking another long drink from her pitcher. "I am a woman, Zayden. You do realize this, right? Even elven women have their 'natural impulses.' We merely have them later in years than human women do."

Zayden shifted uncomfortably. "So it is a matter of desire as well?" Zayden asked. "You also want children, then? You want to be a mother?"

"Of course. Is that so hard to believe?"

"I suppose not…" Zayden said in a trailing voice. "You… You also made it sound as if there is no particular man you have in mind?"

"Correct…" said Zeela is a similarly trailing manner, the first tell tale signs of a blush creeping into her cheeks. "It shouldn't be too hard to find. For someone as beautiful as myself," she added, in good humor. "Would it matter to you if I had someone already in mind…?"

At this point Zayden felt sure that the unspoken had become clear between the both of them. It made no further sense to stall the point any further. "I think it would, actually," said Zayden. "If we are indeed no longer to be master and apprentice, then upon your return, I think I will take you as my wife."

Zayden, throughout his entire time knowing Zeela, could only for the first fleeting minutes he met her see her as a woman. In all other instances she was, in order, an emotional manipulator, a virtuous criminal and thief, and a master and teacher. All aforementioned things blinded him to the basic truth that, beneath all such exteriors, she was at her core still a woman with desires and an instinct. This very illusion, now in spite of her present efforts, shattered the moment he stated his intention to make Zela his wife.

The blush in Zeela's cheeks quickly flooded over her entire face. Her pupils dilated and her lips subtly parted. She then brought a hand over her mouth to fruitlessly prevent the smallest of whimpers from slipping past it. She then quickly tried to cover it up by forcing a hearty laugh. "Y-You cannot be serious!" she said through the spaces between her fingers. "And what makes you think you deserve me?"

"Nothing," Zayden replied. "At least nothing yet. But I make this promise to you: every day in your absence, with my every action, I will strive to make myself worthy to you. You have already given me so much that I must give back to you. I give you my word that, upon your return, I will have the foundations of a new life prepared for you. It will be impossible for you to refuse me."

"Is that so?" said Zeela, now stifling back a small bout of nervous chuckles. "Bold claim. Let me assume, then, that I take you at your word. You must promise me something while I'm away. I can start you on the path but this is something you must do for yourself, just as I did many years ago."

"And that would be?" Zayden asked.

"Learn to kill." In an instant the mood of the room flipped. Zayden wondered if, in part, this request was to take the subject off of marriage. If it was it worked flawlessly. "When I was young and I knew I wanted to become a thief," Zeela continued, "when I understood the potential dangers of such a life, I knew killing was an inevitability. I taught myself how to shoot a bow and hunted beasts in the wild. I grew up in the Bitter Coast where there were plenty of wild animals to hunt: rats, netches, nix-hounds, the occasional cliff racer in the northern part. Eventually though, before I joined the guild in Balmora, I spent a pair of years killing another type of beast infesting the area: pirates. The worst kind of pirates. That's how I learned to kill men…

How you go about learning to kill, Zayden, is up to you to figure out. Figure out what feels best. That is all I can really say…"

Zeela reached for Zayden's cup and noticed it was empty again. This time she put the ale aside and retrieved a small flask from her robe and poured from that into both their cups. "A toast," she suggested. "To a new beginning."

"And to success in your heist," Zayden added, taking back the cup and downing the drink in one gulp. He looked back at Zeela, his eyes now locked on to hers. He thought for a moment of how life might be upon her return, the life they would now share. He intended to make the most of these next few days with her; spend as much time with her as he could. His thoughts went so forth that he hadn't noticed Zeela never drank from her cup. By the time he did, though, it was too late. Strength slipped from his body and he collapsed back to sleep.

Zayden woke up the next morn and discovered Zeela's room completely empty.


	7. Pelagiad

Chapter 7: Pelagiad

Zayden could only lay stiff as a board and groan in pain as the healer went about her work. She hovered her glowing hands in small, slow circles above his collar bone, pouring her magicka into the bone fracture and binding them back together. Every several seconds of this brought with it a dull pain that caused Zayden to groan yet again.

Sugar-Lips sat cross-legged nearby on the floor and watched the procedure take place. This occured in Zayden's quarters. Zayden turned to her and, through another dull pain, stated the obvious. "Zeela lied to me."

"Indeed," Sugar-Lips replied. "She thought a clean break would be best. Less time to grow attached."

"Then she could have- Ouch- been honest about it and not drugged me to sleep! Now she's gone, with no way of talking to her, saying 'Goodbye,' or anything!"

"Perhaps Zayden thinks he is being treated unfairly? And what would Zayden expect of Zeela to do otherwise, Khajiit wonders…"

"Well… Probably not much different, I admit."

"Zayden should be thankful. Zayden is now free to do as he wishes while bringing honor to Thieves Guild. There is always work to be done in Balmora. Thieves Guild makes due collections every week. Split city into five sections, take one section each week. When Zayden feels ready there is always position open for racketeer. Give Imperial plenty of time before 'marriage.'" Zayden jerked his gaze toward Sugar-Lips. "Yes, Khajiit made aware. Khajiit hate to lose two thieves but for Zeela to go into hiding is necessary. If Zayden wish to 'create new foundation,' Khajiit suggests getting to work as soon as possible."

"I am not sure- no offence- how much debt collecting can prepare me for creating a domestic life. Apart from that, Zeela wants me in her absence to learn how to kill. How can I do that during such jobs?"

"One cannot. Khajiit suggests searching the streets of Balmora for that answer. Khajiit knows Zayden is good man, he will discover a solution. That is all Khajiit will say on matter."

"I appreciate it-Aah!" The healer had finished the collar bone and hand begun work on the worst injury Zayden had; his snapped forearm. "It may be a few days, though, before I resume any work, even if what occurred was a freak happening. I wouldn't feel quite comfortable going back to racketeering just yet..."

"Khajiit understands," said Sugar-Lips with a nod.

"What ended up happening with that woman that went berserk? It seemed like things went south in an instant."

"Khajiit does not know what happened to woman. Company left too soon after Zayden getting attacked to find out. Aengoth said he would send news if any came." Sugar-Lips stood herself up and made for the door. "Khajiit will leave healer to her work," she said, addressing the mage. "Khajiit will have payment ready when you leave."

"Thank you," said the healer back. "These breaks make take another hour, but all together the rest will only be another forty minutes more, at the latest." Sugar-Lips nodded and left the room leaving the healer to finish her work in complete silence, save for Zayden's continuing grunting.

Having one's bones mended and put back together by healing magic, while a quick process, is not without its pain. And even the best healers recommend, if possible, to allow broken bones to heal naturally to ensure complete and full recovery. It is very rare, though not unheard of, for magically healed bones to become naturally weaker even when "fully healed." Multiple heals to the same bone, similarly, are not recommended. A bone can be force-healed so many times before it becomes brittle and, after one too many injuries, becomes unmendable.

As these were Zayden's first breaks, this fear did not apply. Much to Zayden's surprise, when the healing session was declared complete by the healer, he could stand back up and move his left arm and hand with perfect ease. He made sure to personally give some gold of his own to the healer before getting dressed and returning to the cantina. Sugar-Lips was sitting at the bar and and Phane working behind it. They both greeted the Imperial when he arrived.

"Feeling better?" Phane asked, sliding an ale across the bar to him.

"Well enough," Zayden answered. He gulped down half of the mug in one go before noticing Sugar-Lips had a drink in front of her already. This meant she wasn't available for speaking. He chose instead to speak his intentions aloud to the both of them. "I think I'll take a long walk through the city today. My arms and legs need some blood pumped into them."

"Try not to get lost," was Phane's only chuckled retort.

Zayden finished his beer and set off out of the South Wall. The healer had come around noontime making his departure from the club somewhere late in the afternoon. Zayden did just as he said he would; he walked and wandered the streets and alleyways of Balmora without direction or purpose. He kept himself at a slow pace for fear of overexerting his freshly healed bones.

He thought back to what Sugar-Lips had said, that the city would have the answers he sought. But where? And how? And to the question of needing to learn how to kill… The implications worried Zayden. Did Sugar-Lips imply murder would be necessary?

No. "_Zayden is good man._" That was what she had said. And thieves are not killers. Sugar-Lips must have had something else in mind. Figuring this riddle out, though, pulled Zayden through a few long hours of walking. Before he became fully aware of it the sun had fallen behind the hills to the west and the night's chill set in along with a bout of hunger.

Zayden set off in the direction of the market and he sought out a familiar food vendor. It was the same man Zayden ate from on his first day in Balmora, the one that served mudcrab bowls and cheap beer. The proprietor even hinted that Zayden looked familiar as he took his order. As Zayden waited and drank from his first beer he asked the man if there was any work available in the city.

"I could use a dishwasher," he laughed. "I suppose you mean mercenary work, though. You look the sort, if you don't mind me saying. I'd ask the Fighters Guild for that, friend." The Fighters _would_ be a place to fight and kill, Zayden agreed to himself, but it would most likely be against men. Zayden was not ready to do such a thing again and so soon.

Zayden felt a brush against his boot as he continued to ponder his options. He looked down and was greeted with the sight of a fat, brown rat sniffing at the legs of his stool. Before he could react a mangy cat came bounding in from the right and pounced on top of the rat, clamping its teeth into the back of its neck. The creature wriggled in a fruitless attempt to break free as the cat went bounding off claiming its prize.

"See something?" asked the cart owner, handing Zayden his food.

"I just witnessed a cat snatch a rat up with it it's teeth right at my feet," Zayden replied.

"Nice rhyme," he joked. "Yes, they've been a big pain around here, haven't they?"

"Have they?" Zayden asked.

"Where have you been these last few months!? Yeah, the rats have been breeding a lot more recently. I've been good at keeping them out of my own food storage but others in the market haven't been so lucky. And with the rats come stray cats, which come with their own problems. Hey, maybe that can be your job around here: local exterminator!"

The two laughed off the joke initially, but as Zayden began to eat his mind eventually drifted back to that very prospect. Zayden needed to learn how to kill and Balmora has a rat infestation… How hard could it be, to kill a few rats? Zayden, of course, didn't expect to rid the entire city of the beasts. One would have an easier go ridding Vvardenfell of all the cliff racers!

These new possibilities carried Zayden through his meal and his return journey back to South Wall. He met Sugar-Lips behind the club smoking a fat, stubby cigarette. Zayden joined her with a cigar of his own for a few minutes before telling her about what he did today. He first, though, ask if she knew anything about throwing weapons. Sugar-Lips seemed almost insulted at the question, quickly declaring herself the best thrower in the Balmora bureau.

Zayden grinned, he half expecting Sugar-Lips to answer as she did. "I learned today that the market has a problem with rats," he told her. "The thought of learning knife throwing had come long before now. I could be both honing a new skill and helping the community out at the same time."

"Khajiit agrees," said Sugar-Lips. "Khajiit will take you to smith tomorrow and help select throwing knives. We will practice on tree here, behind South Wall." She gestured to the tree several years away. The memory of Zeela inducing Zayden to vomit upon joining the guild welled back up. "That is, if Imperial is healed enough."

"I spent the entire day walking and had no complications. I don't throw with my left arm so I think I will be okay."

The cat and the Imperial did just as she said the next afternoon, the two going to a smith in the market. There in the shop, in a wall of small shelves, was organized a small variety of different throwing weapons to choose from: throwing daggers, knives, darts, and stars, mostly made from iron. It took Zayden several minutes of handling and inspection for him to finally settle upon a set of ten matching knives, each measuring nine inches in length, with a five inch double-edged blade and a heavy handle end. The set fit well in loops in the leather strap across Zayden's chest.

Zayden paid for his weapons and, just as Sugar-Lips was about to turn and make back toward the door, Zayden asked the smith if he was taking up commissions. This surprised Sugar-Lips and she asked what Zayden had in mind. He unsheathed his dagger and presented it to the smith. It was the very same dagger that killed the boy. Zayden asked if another could be made; a dagger with a crossguard but the blade replaced with a slightly longer, heavy metal bar with a rounded tip and no edges at all. The smith agreed and said it could easily be completed by tomorrow evening.

Sugar-Lips expressed her appreciation of Zayden's new weapon choices as they left to return to the South Wall. "A blunted weapon, to prevent killing. Does this mean Zayden will replace dagger already owned?"

"No," he replied. "It will merely be another to carry. I will endeavor to rely on it as a first line of offence in the future, when possible. I still want to keep the edged dagger, for if things ever go south again, Gods forbid."

The Imperial and the Khajiit shared a quick lunch before proceeding to the back of the club. Sugar-Lips by then had retrieved her personal bandolier of throwing weapons, she preferring knives as well. For this and the next two days, twice a day, and for two hours at a time, she give Zayden an introduction to throwing weapons and knife throwing. She personally had gotten proficent at a sideways throwing technique that launched knives forward and with no spin. She as well could unsheathe from her chest bandolier and throw in one quick fluid motion with surprising accuracy.

They practiced only for accuracy and distance for those three days, throwing from varying distances. Lessons in quickness would come once Zayden could reliably hit a chest sized target from any distance within thirty feet. This threshold of course never came in their three days of training but Zayden nonetheless became decent enough in the art.

On the fourth day Zayden set forth back into the streets of Balmora, first returning to the smith to retrieve his long overdue commission. He, after getting told out for collecting late, was pleased with what had been created. The design was deceptively simple and brilliant, indistinguishable at a glance from a regular dagger. He moved his bladed dagger to the left of his hip, next to his sword, and put his new weapon on his right.

Thus began what would be the oddest months of work for Zayden he had ever had. After making his presence and intentions known to the captain of the Balmora guard, Zayden began his quest to exterminate the pests and rats of the city. The first nine days were a miserable affair. He, without a shred of knowledge on how to hunt, made a joke of himself as he retread the walkways of Balmora in search of pest, only to miss every throw he made at them. It didn't take long for a new moniker, "Ratman," to become affixed to him among the districts.

On the tenth day Zayden took a break from his charade of a hunt, finally choosing to take part in another racketeering job. This one was conducted in the upper class residential district west of the Odai. The wealthy, Zayden would quickly realize, held both some of the most cowardly and headstrong society had to offer. The day, however, ended with all debts paid up and not a single incident of violence.

During that day Zayden told Sugar-Lips about his failure of the last nine days. She seemed amused at the tale and, when asked for advice, seemed to take personal delight in telling Zayden to "Use your head."

"Think of what Zeela said of heist," she continued. "Ten years spent planning. Zayden must learn to use eyes and observe, to remain still and think before acting. Stalking down every pest in city in mad hunt will get Zayden nowhere." Zayden took this new advice to heart and, upon returning to rat hunting the next day spent the next three days merely observing the creatures. He studied and took notes where they were most often seen and where, when spotted, they ran off to. This eventually led Zayden to discovering some of their dens in the river sewers.

It took another few days to get his first ranged kill of a rat. He had spotted it atop a bread crate in an alley behind a tavern. He observed the beast as it sniffed and poked its head around for a few long minutes before he slowly began to reach for one of his knives. Then, when it had its back turned completely, Zayden made a swift throw and struck the rat in its very center, pinning it to the crate. It squeaked and squirmed for a few moments before finally slowing down and dying.

After that first kill the next would come more and more often. The second kill came just after a few more days, the third coming the next day after. It would be only another two weeks before Zayden had practiced and honed his skills enough to be able to, upon immediately spotting a rat, unsheath a throwing knife and make, if not a kill, strike within a foot of the creature. With such precision hitting a man-sized target, on command, would prove easy. A new name of "Rat Slayer" soon followed.

It was around this time Zayden began adopting a regular position as racketeer in Balmora, going out with a company of thieves every week to collect dues. With each job that passed without violence his confidence grew in his work. He began to believe the words of his fellow thieves, the ones Zeela had previously dismissed; what had happened to Zayden on his first true assignment was a massive fluke. The only other time in the next five months of collecting dues he ever had to lay a finger on his weapons against man or mer was by show of threat, one that never escalated.

As Zayden worked his skills became ever more honed, her personal coffers slowly but steadily grew, and in secret to everyone else, he studied and planned a scheme of his own...

-o0o-

Zayden waited for a particular type of evening to unveil his intentions. It would be an evening after a day of collecting dues on Labor Street, the main road that cut through the residential/working class district east of the Odai. Such dues were often the more time consuming to collect, the more impoverished understandably more unwilling to part with their coin. This made the day's collecting more tiring than others and Zayden observed Sugar-Lips _always_ spent a few hours at the cantina bar on those evenings.

Joining Sugar-Lips for an evening drink was a common enough occurrence. There was, of course, little in the way of idle talk between them, the Khajiit treating her drinking as the ritual she did. This meant he had to wait patiently for the magic moment between when she finished a drink and started another. When that time came he lept into action, producing a leather roll of papers and placing it on the bar in front of her.

"What is this?" Sugar-Lips asked.

"I have a proposition for the guild, Mastermind." Zayden never called Sugar-Lips "Mastermind" unless the business was official and he was about to ask something of her. Sugar-Lips knew this and now gave Zaydem her full attention. "It benefits the Thieves Guild and myself personally. You remember the promise I made to Zeela for her return?"

"Khajiit remembers."

"I have planned over the last few months an effort to expand the guild's influence." Zayden undid the tie on the roll and spread flat across the bar. Inside was a messy pile of handwritten notes detailing the plan. "Currently we operate in four major cities officially: Balmora, Ald'Ruhn, Vivec, and Sadrith Mora. Between here and Vivec is Pelagiad, the Imperial Legion 'retirement village.' Remember I had traveled there two weeks ago for 'vacation.'"

"Khajiit remembers, also. What is Zayden's point?"

"The inn there, the Halfway Tavern, is owned by a woman named Drelasa Ramothran. She's friendly to the Thieves Guild but of course not a member herself. At least she had been friendly to us in the past."

"What has changed?" Sugar-Lips asked.

"I'm not entirely sure yet. While there I made friends with a Khajiit woman. Ahnassi. She's a rogue thief but she aspires to join the guild someday. She *ahem* also became quite smitten by me as well." Sugar-Lips chuckled and grinned. "Ahnassi is a regular at the tavern and was able to give me some info on what was going on.

Apparently, within a little under two weeks before my arrival in Pelagiad, a stranger to the town arrived and began renting the inn's most expensive room. The patron, a Nord woman, is held up in the room at nearly all hours of the day. She refuses to speak to anyone and gets verbally hostile toward anyone who tries to talk to her. She hasn't assaulted anyone yet and she pays her rent on time so Drelasa can not legally remove her from the inn.

This, Ahnassi believes, is causing Drelasa to become stressed and she has begun taking it out on all the other patrons. She has even begun to reject thief presence, seeing them as 'more unnecessary trouble.' If I can get the Nord to leave the tavern than the place can become Thieves Guild friendly once more. Then I can begin my plan of taking ownership of the tavern itself."

This made Sugar-Lips visibly scoff. "Zayden does not know how to run inn," she chided. "How does Zayden think he can do this?"

"I personally will not run the inn. Just take ownership. Ahnassi will run the place. She told me she has observed the trade long and well enough to practice it herself. She clearly loves the place and has mentioned she would love to own it. I believe she can be trusted. Of course, once Drelasa is removed, some of the remaining staff of the tavern might leave with her on principle…"

Zayden did not mean to say the last line aloud, it being a lingering doubt of his for the mission. Nevertheless it slipped and Sugar-Lips took note of it. The Khajiit sat motionless and said nothing. Her feline eyes looked back with increasing uneasiness as what was being proposed. Even now Zayden was beginning to sound unsure even to himself. He continued to outline his plan regardless.

"This might be of interest, also," he went on. "East of Pelagiad is Dren Plantation." The Khajiit's ears perked up. "It is owned by Orvas Dren, brother to the Duke of Ebonheart. I think we both know how he is related to the Thieves Guild…"

"Orvas is Kingpin of Camonna Tong," Sugar-Lips answered solemnly. "Also holds informal but strong influence in House Hlaalu. Plantation holds many slaves, both lizard and cat… Zayden intends to spy on Camonna Tong?"

"Camonna Tong are enemies to the Thieves Guild. And I thought you, a Khajiit, would approve of such a course of action."

"Khajiit does," she said back, "but Khajiit thinks Zayden is over his head with ambition. Zayden intends to replace ownership of tavern- which Zayden has yet to explain how- but has not planned for all possible outcomes! What if tavern work staff revolt? What if Camonna Tong get wise to Thieves Guild expansion? This plot has not been thought through and goes beyond purview of guild!"

"If this plan works the Thieves Guild will have stronger influence in the Ascadian Isles. We will be on the doorstep of the Camonna Tong and keep better eye on their leader. This also-" Zayden paused. "This will also let me fulfil my promise to Zeela, when she returns. She will have a wealthy, comfortable life to return to."

"IF Zeela returns!" Sugar-Lips shot back, hissing again. "So _that_ is what drove you to concoct maddening scheme? Your promise to her? So much can go wrong, Zayden. Great harm would come of guild if plot fails. Zayden's heart is in the right place but his head goes beyond his step!"

"I understand the risks involved," said Zayden. "Which is why I am willing to do as Zeela has and sever my official ties to the guild. If things fail there will be no connection back to South Wall."

"Zayden will do no such thing because Khajiit rejects plan!" Sugar-Lips shot up from her stool. "Khajiit respects enthusiasm. Khajiit hopes Zayden can provide for Zeela if she returns. But not by these means." Zayden attempted to strengthen his case but by then it was too late and Sugar-Lips had heard enough. She excused herself and retired to her quarters.

An uncomfortable air hung over the cantina. Zayden glanced to the other thieves for even a hint that any one of them sided with his idea. Most, to his dismay, kept their eyes away and to themselves. Phane, to his credit, attempted to soften Zayden's defeat with another ale but by then even Zayden refused to say any more. He rolled his papers and leather back up and retreated upstairs and into the Balmoran night.

Zayden was not heard from by the next morning and, when still there had been no sight of him by the evening, Sugar-Lips organized and led a search for him. The trail was hot and it did not take long at all to find out where he had gone. A guard readily divulged that he saw Zayden board a late silt strider, one inbound for Vivec. A route that would take him close to Pelagiad.

-o0o-

Zayden handed an extra sum of gold to stop the strider an hour outside of Pelagiad. The beastmaster agreed and made an unscheduled stop along the road, letting the Imperial off. The strider picked back up and continued along the road leaving Zayden to cut across the wild northeast until he reached the town sometime before dawn. The tavern at this hour would naturally be open but Zayden chose to make another visit before heading there.

A few blocks from the tavern was a small, unassuming house clustered among many other residents. He knocked on the door and was met by a sleepy but friendly face a few moments later. "Imperial!" Ahnassi greeted, quickly beginning to purr loudly. "Ahnassi is happy to see my friend return. Please, enter!"

Ahnassi quickly rubbed and groomed the orange fur around her face and her black tipped ears to neaten her appearance as Zayden entered her home. She then went bounding toward the pantry and quickly served up some dried nix-hound meat and mazte. She gave Zayden no choice but to sit shoulder to shoulder on a cushioned chaise to eat. But there was no opportunity to eat or drink because Ahnassi also wasted no time in rest her head on his shoulder and sliding in closer.

Zayden feared she would be like this when he returned. She had made it painfully obvious to Zayden, upon first laying eyes on him, she viewed him romantically. Zayden in turned liked her and found her company comforting but resisted breaking her heart too soon. Her skill and effort in the days to come would be vital to his plans and losing her friendship would be disastrous. Plus, in an odd way, he found the cat cute in a way he had never seen in any other Khajiit.

"What brings Ahnassi's special friend here at such an early hour?" she asked Zayden, rubbing the side of her face into his neck and continuing to purr.

"An unfortunate turn of events," he replied. "I presented my plan to Habasi and she refused to endorse it. I left to fulfil it regardless and I now I fear I risk my place in the Thieves Guild as a result."

"How awful," Ahnassi exclaimed. "Ahnassi though it was a good plan!"

"As did I. I still intend to go forward with the plan, though… What has happened since I was last here?"

"Not much has changed. The Nord woman still refuses to leave and Drelasa is becoming ever more hostile. Patronage to the tavern is drying up and the Imperial guard is now threatening to close its doors if things don't change."

"Then we have even less time to act now…" Zayden took a swig of his drink and sighed.

"But Ahnassi has learned new things about Nord! Ahnassi is now positive she is secret worshiper of Mehrunes Dagon! We can use this against her to have the guard remove her."

"The guard is in the same position as Drelasa," Zayden reminder her. "Unless she hurts or attacks anyone and so long as she keeps paying her rent there is nothing anyone can do."

"But there is! Ahnassi knows where the key to her room is. Ahnassi can sneak in and take her money. When she can no longer pay Drelasa she will be removed! By the guard if necessary."

"It may be dangerous, trying to steal from her, if she indeed worships Mehrunes Dagon." Zayden cautioned. "Do you think you can do it?"

"Yes," Ahnassi replied with even more nustling and purrs. "Ahnassi is good thief. Ahnassi will do it for you, Zayden. Special friend."

It took much of Zayden's strength to simply fall prey to the Khajiit's blunt affections. He knew it would be so easy to do so and she would immediately submit to his advance. But he could never do such a thing and betray his promise to Zeela. He knew he had to say _something_ to the girl.

"Ahnassi," Zayden groaned as he craned his head from the rubbing and prodes of her muzzle. "Why are you acting this way? You cling to me like a wet blanket."

"I cling because Ahnassi notices you like you noticed Ahnassi. You knew I was a thief when we first met and _I_ noticed your smooth moves and the way you walk. Ahnassi liked what she saw," she giggled. Like a house cat on cat nip she persisted in rubbing her face against Zayden. She leaned in and whispered in Zayden's ear. "Ahnassi can not control herself around you. Ahnassi would love to take you to her bed and share her _natural gift_ with you."

So _very_ easy to fall…

"Gods bless you, Ahnassi," Zayden attempted to laugh off. "You will one day make a man very happy… But I must refuse you." The purring subsided slightly. "I have my heart set upon another. A Dunmer. Zeela. She is away taking part in a big heist in Vivec currently. When she returns she will need to go into hiding and I hope to provide her with enough wealth to live a comfortable domesticity."

"Which is why you want to own the Halfway Tavern," said Ahnassi. Zaden nodded. "So Zayden does not love Ahnassi, then?"

"I do love you," said Zayden, "but I can not share my life with you. And so I can not accept your 'natural gift,' as much as it pains me to do so."

Ahnassi giggled and pressed her muzzle back into Zayden's neck but at the same time shrunk in her embrace. "So you _do_ feel the same way for Ahnassi? But your heart is for another…"

"I hope you can forgive me."

"Maybe Ahnassi can." She pressed herself against Zayden once more. "Drelasa usually mans tavern bar in evenings, when tenants pay rent. We have time until then and Ahnassi can tell we are both tired… If Ahnassi can not share her body, let Ahnassi share her bed downstairs. Keep Zayden warm." This option sounded no different to the other. But before he could refuse he felt Ahnassi's claws firmly clamp onto his arm. "Ahnassi will not take 'No' as an answer. Do this or Ahnassi does not help in the mission."

"This sounds like extortion," Zayden stated.

"All in day's for for Thieves Guild, yes? No more talk. We rest. Ahnassi promise to keep paws to herself."

-o0o-

Zayden awoke in Ahnassi's bed, late in the afternoon, to the touch of Khajiit fur pressed against his chest and legs. Somehow during his slumber Ahnassi slipped herself between his arms and cradled herself against him. Furthermore, she had also removed all her clothes. Zayden distinctly remembered the two had gone to sleep on very opposite sides of the bed and her with clothes on. So to awake so intertwined and in such a state only meant one thing.

Zayden leaned forward and whispered Ahnassi's name into her ear. She groaned softly and rolled over to face Zayden, still within the hold of his arms. "Pleasant dreams?" she whispered back with a grin.

"I thought you promised you would keep your hands to yourself."

"Ahnassi did," she giggled. "Ahnassi wriggled into your arms as you slept, like a snake. Clever, yes?"

Zayden for a moment contemplated what an appropriate response to this turn of events would be. Then he decided he didn't care.

Zayden reached toward Ahnassi's rear, firmly grasped her tail and violently jerked it upward. The Khajiit gave a piercing yelp, jumped almost to the ceiling, and fell off the bed, crashing onto the floor. She immediately shot back up and was met by Zayden's piercing enraged eyes.

"One never pulls a Khajiit's tail!" Ahnassi scolded. "It is like getting an arm cut off!" Zayden pretended he could no longer hear Ahnassi and began to get dressed. He made his way back to the pantry upstairs, leaving Ahnassi to clamor her clothes and gear (green and brown robe and knife belt) back on and catch up. When she finally did Zayden was ripping off bites of the nix-hound meat left out from last night. He casually tossed her a piece and poured the two of them water and more mazte, all without speaking a word to her or making any eye contact.

"Ok, ok, Ahnassi admits she made mistake! Zayden has a right to be angry. Punish Ahnassi if you must. Pull her tail again! A-A hundred times again! But please do not be mad at her. Please."

Zayden finally met Ahnassi's eyes and once more shot daggers at her. He wanted to explode and berate her, make her feel sorry for what she had done. And yes, perhaps even yank her tail a few more times if necessary. But in the moment their eyes met again something told him to stop. In her eyes, beneath the surface level fright and shame was something that rang as… innocence? An almost childlike naivete that, in a flash, made it impossible for Zayden to remain mad at her.

"... No," Zayden replied at length. "Something tells me you would actually _enjoy_ me pulling your tail." For the moment the two were silent but soon they were both laughing to each other. Ahnassi reclaimed the space between she and Zayden and once nuzzled up against him.

"Ahnassi _is_ sorry," she said. "She promises to be good girl and help Zayden on his mission today."

"I know you will. I know I can trust you…" Zayden looked to a nearby window. "Looks like it's still at least an hour until dusk begins. We have a bit more time to eat until we begin."

The two ate and drank together before making their final preparations. As they checked their equipment a fell thought came over Zayden. He remembered back to the things Sugar-Lips had said, how she kept insisting the possibility that Zeela might actually not return from her heist. If all things in his effort to take the Halfway Tavern and establish Thieves Guild presence in Pelagiad went according to plan, there would be no Zeela to share in it.

Zayden's eyes fell unconsciously back on Ahnassi just as she was adjusting the loops for her throwing darts. This Khajiit, in spite of the short time they had come to know each other, was only the second person ever to view Zayden with any hint of romance. And she did so so easily and completely. Zayden wondered, only for a brief moment, what life would be like with Ahnassi…

The two eventually got ready and left Ahnassi's home, making the brief walk north across Pelagiad to the tavern. It was just off the main boulevard that cut the city in two and led east toward the town's Imperial fort. They had timed their departure well and the sun was just beginning to set and turn the sky a familiar orange.

The tavern was just beginning to hit its evening rush as Zayden and Ahnassi entered. The bar stretched across the back wall and, as Ahnassi said, was being manned by Drelasa Ramothran. She was a middle-aged Dunmer with red hair and expensive shirt and skirt.

"Welcome back," she greeted Ahnassi. She automatically served her a mug of shein without having been asked. Up close Zayden could discern dark circles underneath her eyes, caused by stress or lack of sleep. "And greetings to you, Imperial. I remember you here talking with Ahnassi a few weeks ago. What are you drinking?"

"Mazte," he answered.

"This is Zayden," said Ahnassi. "He is special friend to Ahnassi. Zayden is fellow thief, blackcap in Thieves Guild." Zayden greeted himself to Drelasa but was already getting suspicious eyes from her.

"Ahnassi wanted me to come back," Zayden told Drelasa. "She said this place was rather welcome to the Thieves Guild."

"Yes, well, you will have to forgive me, Imperial," the Dunmer dismissed. "I haven't been in the hospitable mood as of late."

"So I've been told. Ahnassi has clued me in to what has been happening. To your Nord problem."

"Then you must know what hell I've been in then. The bitch keeps her payments and there is nothing I can do to kick her out!"

"I think we may be able to change that today." Zayden leaned in across the bar. "Give Ahnassi a key to her room. When she comes down this evening to pay her rent try to stall and keep her here as long as possible. Ahnassi will sneak upstairs and take her remaining money. Then come tomorrow when she can no longer pay you will finally have cause to remove her."

The Dunmer leaned back slightly and considered the proposition for only a brief moment. "Sounds as good a plan as any. Very well, Imperial. Just keep yourself and Ahnassi sober enough to do the job right. Pull this off and I'll let the both of you drink for free for… Well, a while, at least. In fact…" Drelasa quickly served each of the two another of their respective drinks. "These are on the house as well."

The two thieves thanked the Dunmer and slowly sipped from their vessels for another several silent minutes, passing time until the Nord emerged. Drelasa turned her attention to the other patrons of the inn, serving drinks and cleaning up behind the bar and tables. Those several minutes eventually turned to over an hour. When there was finally a decent lull in the evening rush Drelasa returned her attention to Zayden and Ahnassi.

"It's kind of funny, Imperial, seeing your face again," she said. "Yours has been one of the few new to Pelagiad for a while. Last stranger we had was some well-dressed, smooth talker looking for a woman he met in passing and had become instantly head-over-heels for. And wouldn't you know it, just this morning, we had another stranger. Came galloping in around opening hour. Seemed like he was in a rush but he came in, took a seat, and has barely moved from his spot all day."

Zayden merely raised a curious eyebrow and she continued. "No lies, friend. He's done little but sit, watch everyone coming and going for hours now. And drink up all my Cyrodillic brandy! Only have a few bottles of it, and to be fair it doesn't move all that well, but he refuses to drink anything else. He's sitting alone near the opposite wall."

Zayden glanced to his left and caught a glimpse of the stranger in question. "That him?" he asked. "Seems to be fixated upon me personally."

"Maybe he finds you cute," Drelasa joked.

"Maybe I'll find out," said Zayden, suddenly getting up from his stool and walking over to the table where the stranger sat. Ahnassi attempted to tell Zayden not to cause any trouble but her words got caught in her throat. Zayden pulled up a chair and sat opposite the other and at first said nothing. He merely grinned back at the red-face man.

"What are you doing here, Tappius?" Zayden finally asked.

Tappius gave a coughing chuckle. His entire face and head was a healthy, drunken glowing red. One empty and one half drunk bottle of Cyrodillic brandy sat on the table next to his short stout glass. "Habasi sent me," he replied. "She wanted me to relay to you a message, but…" He paused to glance back at his bottles. "I'm a little too drunk to remember exactly what it was. But I _do_ remember being told to check if you're alive and not causing the guild any dishonor. Basically, I'm hired on extended contract to follow you and keep you from mucking things up.

So? What should I report back to the cat?"

"It's been not even over a day," Zayden chided. "The first step in the scheme has yet to even occur." Zayden reiterated the plan to Tappius and received back a tepid response. Tappius was unconvinced what would occur after the Nord was removed.

"If your plan is to give Zeela a place to call home," Tappius expounded, "where exactly is that going to come from?"

"I thought, perhaps, that in Drelasa would give me and Zeela permanent lodging in one of the tavern rooms. At least until we can afford a house."

"What if she refuses?" Zayden could not speak an answer and cursed himself for his inability. "Your heart is in the right place, my friend, but you're a little over your head."

"That sounds familiar," Zayden groaned, snatching up the bottle of brandy and taking a swig. The liquid hit his pallet and made his groan a second time. Tappius gave a hearty laugh at the effort. So loud was the laugh that Zayden at first failed to hear descending footsteps from behind him.

"Barmaid!" a new voice sounded over the ambient chatter. "Got my rent for the day."

Zayden swiveled around on his stool and looked back to the bar. The Nord woman, Hrordis, had finally come down. She was taller and slightly more broad in the shoulders, as most Nord women are, had short cut red hair and was clad in a fine olive green robe. She could have been middle aged but her otherwise smooth face was creased in oddly deep age lines. It didn't help that she also wore a constant scowl.

The Nord slammed onto the surface of the bar her ten septum payment and was just about to head back upstairs when Drelasa stopped her. "Wait a moment," she said. "Could you hold here while I inspect these coins. It's nothing personal to you. I've been having problems with other tenants trying to pass up fake coins." The Nord protested for a moment, claiming she never paid in fake coins in the past, but ultimately stuck around and watched the Dunmer inspect each and every coin in a slow and unnecessarily methodical manner.

It was while this was going on that Ahnassi casually got up from her stool and made her way toward and up the stairs. The Nord huffed and groaned and paced back and forth as the inspection took its course. Long minutes passed and one by one the coins were deemed to be real. It came down to the second to last coin when the Khajiit finally came back down and sat back down at the bar, giving Drelasa a subtle wink.

Drelasa finished and declared the Nord's payment done. Hrordis gave one final, exacerbated yell before stomping back to her room. Zayden returned to the bar and asked Ahnassi how things went. She produced from inside one of her sleeves a small coin pouch. "Ahnassi was successful. Ahnassi is good thief, yes?"

Zayden smiled and gave the Khajiit a few good scratches behind her ear. "Very good," he said, then turning to Drelasa. "I would bring a few guards here by tomorrow evening, just to be secure, if she decides not to leave quietly," he advised her. She agreed and served he and Ahnassi another free round. Zayden and Ahnassi left the bar to join Tappius at his table and for another several minutes the trio basked in their victory. The sound of a crash from upstairs brought their mood to a collapsing halt.

Hrordis came storming back downstairs more enraged than previously. She yelled across the tavern in a voice so loud it rendered all others into silence. "No one is leaving this tavern!" She motioned a hand toward the front door and the door flashed with a faint purple glow of an alteration spell. "The door is now locked and triggered to kill anyone who tries to open it. Someone has stolen my money and no one leaves until I've found and killed them!"

For what felt like an eternity no one dared move or speak, the entire tavern brought to a standstill. This did nothing to quell the Nord's temper. When Drelasa behind the bar made an imperceptible shift in her stance it immediately caught Horodis's attention. "You had some part in this, don't you!?"

"I have no idea who stole your money," Drelasa replied. "We can call the guard here now and figure things out, but we can't help you so long as you have that door trapped! Release the spell and we can help you!"

"I'm no fool, elf! It happened when you were wasting time inspecting my money! You're a part of this and you're going to pay!" Hrordis stepped toward the bar but abruptly stopped when a loud *thunk* sounded to her right. She looked and saw a throwing dart, mere inches from where her head just was, imbedded in the nearby wall. She followed the flight path back to Ahnassi who was already clutching two more in her paw.

The Nord scowled and made another motion of her hand. The center of the room lit up in a flash of yellow sparks. When they faded a horrifying creature now occupied it. It was lithe and humanoid and naked, its skin covered in necrotic patches and missing chunks of flesh, exposing the bloody meat beneath. Cracked bones pierced and spiked the body in unnatural formation. Zayden would later learn such a creature to be a bonewalker.

The tavern partons yelped in fright and scattered, pressing themselves against the nearest walls. "A summoner?!" Tappius exclaimed. The undead had its lidless eyes locked onto he, Zayden and Ahnassi. With them distracted Hrordis returned her attention to Drelasa. She produced a knife from beneath her robe and approached her. What Hrordis didn't expect was a pair of patrons choosing that moment to tackle her and pin her to the wall. They attempted together to wrestle the knife from her.

The bonewalker began its attack and gave none of the three any time to unsheath their weapons. They dodged its first charge and the creature went crashing into the table. Ahnassi threw two more of her darts into the bonewalker's back but there were completely ineffective. Zayden was the first to unsheath his sword and he made a slash at its left arm. He struck halfway up the forearm and, to his surprise, easily severed it. This barely seemed to wound the undead and only succeeded to anger it.

Tappius thrust his sword into its stomach and got it stuck. The bonewalker responded by backhanding the Imperial with great strength and sending him stumbling back.

As this went on Hrordis had broken her pin and slashed at the two patrons's stomachs. They both went collapsing back clutching their wounds. She returned her attention to Drelasa and charged. The Dunmer made an attempt to use a nearly serving platter to shield herself from the knife. It was effortlessly knocked away and the blade plunged thrice into her chest.

Ahnassi shrieked as she saw Drelasa drop lifelessly to the floor. She broke off from the others and began throwing dart after dart at the Nord in a hissing frenzy. Half of all of them missed and what ones that did strike studded her left arm. It succeeded in crippling it, causing it to dangle just as lifelessly. When the darts ran out Ahnassi produced her own knife and taunted the woman to fight her herself.

The bonewalker turned its attack to Zayden and grabbed him by the shoulders. He pushed back at the creature began to snap its lipless, rotting mouth at the man's neck. Zayden managed to break free and took another swing at its other arm. Again the arm severed and a final strike was made to the crown of the head. It split in half like rotten fruit and a moment later the undead disappeared in another burst of magic sparks.

Ahnassi was now in a grapple with the Nord. She hissed and spat an endless series of curses in another language. It quickly became apparent that Hrordis outmatched Ahnassi in strength and would best her. Zayden readied a throwing knife and, after taking an agonizing full second to steady his aim, sent it forward. It struck deep in the side of the Nord's neck, piercing the windpipe. She made a futile gasp of air before she released her grip on Ahnassi and fell backwards to the floor.

The Khajiit immediately jumped on top of the Nord and began stabbing again and again into her chest. When the knife got stuck she began wildly clawing and ripping away at the flesh of her face, hissing and cursing the entire time, tears streaming down her face. It finally took Zayden yanking her back to end the assault.

When the sorcerer died the spell on the door broke with a subtle flash of purple light. A moment later the door burst open and guards poured in. One dead guard laid in a crumpled heap just outside. He had apparently attempted to open the door when the spell was still in effect.

A long, long night followed. Healers were brought in to treat the wounded and Imperial Legion soldiers question everyone in the tavern. It took until beyond daybreak for an accurate assessment of the events to take shape. In the end Drelasa's death was deemed murder and the actions of all others were deemed to be in self-defence or defence of others.

Ahnassi was nearly inconsolable for a long time, refusing to leave Drelasa's side. Zayden and Tappius remained close to the Khajiit, the former actively attempting to comfort her. He held her by the shoulders and gently stroked the back of her bloody paws. Tappius, meanwhile, seemed the least distraught by the whole experience. If anything he berated himself for not killing either the bonewalker or the Nord. He did give Zayden begrudging praise for doing so.

When finally the wounded and the dead were removed from the tavern a pair of people stayed and helped clean the place of blood. It took until early evening to bring the establishment's appearance back to normal. Funeral arrangements for Drelasa were made that very night and the main boulevard of Pelagiad filled with the town's residents in a celebration of her life. It became clear to Zayden just how valued and loved the woman was to this place.

A few days would then pass before any question of the fate of the Halfway Tavern took place. It took no help from Zayden for the townspeople to decide, nearly unanimously, to whom ownership should go. Ahnassi was transferred ownership of the tavern and after another few days it reopened to an amazing reception.

Zayden felt sick and horrible about what had happened. It was, after all, his plan that led to Drelasa's death. He had planned for transfer of the tavern's ownership to go peacefully, even if it took years to accomplish. But what was done is done and cannot be changed. The means were terrible but the task was accomplished. The tavern, through Ahnassi, was owned by him. Now he need only keep it standing for Zeela's return.

If she ever did...


	8. Hui

Chapter 8: Hui

The Halfway Tavern bar was full of patrons, from opening to closing, for a solid month after its reopening. They came in both continued celebration of Drelasa and to, furthermore, support Ahnassi in her new endeavor. The Khajiit was similarly known as a friendly soul throughout Pelagiad. They seemed to help her out whenever they could and, much to Zayden's relief, most of the inn's staff eventually returned to work there. Nevertheless Zayden jumped in head first and did any job available to help things along. Ahnassi had already observed and learned much of what she needed to know already and her transition to proprietor was an easy one. This busy time was a struggle but she poured her heart into her work and pushed through it all. And as the days passed it seemed happiness returned to Ahnassi as well.

Slowly, inevitably, patronage fell over the next few months until they reached their previous, much more manageable norm. During this time Zayden continued to live with Ahnassi in her home, sharing their bed when they slept. Tappius as well stayed in Pelagiad during that time under the guise of "security," sleeping in the smallest upstairs room of the inn. Every week or two he would send correspondence back to Sugar-Lips with reports. He never divulged he was doing this to Zayden but Zayden easily enough figured out.

Also during this time the question of Drelasa's house came into debate amongst the town. Hers was in size only a step above a shack. It had been built near the northern outskirts and was furnished with only the bare essentials. Drelasa had lived alone there but Zayden thought, with a bit of work, could comfortably house two and, with even more, possibly a family. With Ahnassi's help he was able to get the property signed over him.

Ahnassi was sad to have Zayden live in another house. Zayden had to remind her that they were but a short walk away and saw each other everyday in either case. It was of greater sorrow to be constantly reminded of Zayden's promise to Zeela. The she-elf was an undeniable wedge between the two. Ahnassi felt it unfair that she must give up Zayden for Zeela's _possible_ return. This unjust felt more justified whenever the _other _possibility was brought up to Zayden, that Zeela may never return. He would explode with anger every time but Ahnassi persisted undeterred.

"Ahnassi loves you!" she would tell him, "And she knows you love her! Ahnassi wants to spend her life with you! But she never will so long as Zeela _might _be alive and _may _come back. Will Ahnassi have no choice but to hold on forever? How long will Ahnassi wait!?"

It became harder and harder for Zayden to deny that Zeela could never return. The more he thought about it the more stupid it seemed to keep to his promise. He kept getting pushed to give up on Zeela, to accept the love before him and move on. But he simply could not. Pulled between these choices Zayden eventually broke down and locked himself up in his home. For three days he answered the door for no one and spoke to no one. He knew it was a selfish thing to do, but the strain of keeping to his word had finally become too much. Perhaps in a few days he would be of clearer mind.

-o0o-

The silence of one night was suddenly broken. A flurry of frantic bangs and scratches came from the door of Zayden's house. He scrambled to light an oil lamp before stepping out of bed and approaching the door. "Who's there?" he called out.

"Please, let me in!" a man sounded from the other side. "I am being chased by bandits! I managed to outrun them but they will catch up with me if I'm not able to hide somewhere! Please, I'm unarmed, I promise you! Please!"

Zayden unsheathed his sword, his sword belt hanging from a bed post. "I _am_ armed," he warned the stranger. "I'll open the door, but I'm willing to kill if I suspect any trickery."

"Yes, very well. Just please let me in!"

Zayden unlatched the door and brought his sword to ready. In from the night came a naked Argonian, dirty and gleaming with sweat and scarred in various places. Zayden shut and latched the door behind him, bringing the light of his lantern closer to the other's face. It seemed just as hurt and damaged. His skin was primarily a faded brick red and an oblong, evergreen blotch ran along each side of the bridge of his nose, two more across his forehead. This one had a half crown of short, stubby horns along the back of his head.

"Who is chasing you?" Zayden asked the Argonian.

"Bandits," he replied though an exhausted breath. "I was traveling north, from Vivec. I was sleeping when they attacked. They stripped me of my clothes and while they were looking through my bags I fled." Zayden walked over to a small eastward window and peeked through, seeing nothing. "I ran as fast as I could for as long and I could. But they're probably not that far behind."

"You look pretty beaten up. They must have had their way with you before robbing you."

"Yes…" he whispered. "They had their fun alright."

Zayden poured the Argonian a tall mug of water and let him drink. "What do you think they wanted?" Zayden asked. "Your muggers, I mean."

"Probably money," the Argonian guessed. "I didn't have much on me at the time."

"Nothing of value to steal?"

"No, not really. Does it matter?"

"It might… Apart from scuff marks on your hands and feet, none of your injuries are less than a month old. Those bandits never put a hand on you, did they?" The lizard said nothing. "Let's start from the beginning then… Tell me what you are _really_ doing running naked and in the middle of the night for." Again nothing was said. "Tell me or I throw you back outside."

"I'm an escapee," he finally answered. "I escaped from Dren Plantation. I'm a slave."

Zayden snatched the mug back and refilled it. "Lie to me again and I'll send you back… What's your name, then?"

"I was given the name 'Hui' by my masters. My Jel name was 'Fek-Nushmekko.' In Tamrielic it means 'Plant Lizard.' I was an alchemist."

"You were not born a slave?"

"N-No… I came here, to Vvarenfell, maybe two years ago. I was part of the Mages Guild in Black Marsh. Came here to study, but the master I was assigned to was Dunmer and rejected me. He organized my kidnapping, I swear it, and I was sold to the plantation. I have no idea how long I have been there for…"

Something about the Argonian's story struck as incredibly familiar. Zayden bent back down and examined Hui's face with lantern light. Slowly it dawned on him. "We've met before, Argonian. On a silt strider, inbound to Balmora. It was there we parted ways. Do you remember me?"

It took Hui a few moments but he eventually remembered as well. "Yes… I do remember!" Hui got back up to his feet as Zayden looked for something for Hui to wear. "It is the blessing of the Hist that reunites me in this desperate hour to you! I can feel it now. It cannot by mere coincidence that this has happened!"

Zayden rummaged a pair of loose fitting pants and a plain white shirt. "You make it sound as if it were destiny," Zayden replied. He began to get dressed as well. "I'm not so sure I'm ready to believe that. But in either case it would be wrong of me to send you back to Dren Plantation. I have no great love of the slavery practice. Until I can get reassurance from my friends, I recommend you stay here. Don't go outside, hide under the bed if anyone knocks on the door."

Hui profusely thanked Zayden as he finished getting dressed and set off into the crisp night. He headed back south toward the town and toward the tavern. When he reached the main boulevard he spotted a block away a pair of Dunmer, both armed with swords and whips, speaking with some guards. People from the plantation had already come to Pelagiad. The possibility of keeping Hui safe was shrinking by the moment.

For the first time in days Zayden stepped foot in the Halfway Tavern. He was met at first by the hollars of a few familiar regulars, then by the glaring eyes of a Khajiit from behind the bar. He approached Ahnassi and before she could speak a word _insisted_ that they meet upstairs, in Tappius's room. She thought this an odd request but accepted it.

Tappius, if only for having been woken up at such a late hour, was similarly not pleased to meet Zayden either. He let the two into his narrow and cramped room, quarters that vaguely reminded him of Zayden's back in Balmora. Once the door was locked and secure did Zayden begin.

"There is no better way to explain what has just happened than to just say it," he began. "I have an escaped Argonian slave from Dren Plantation hiding under the bed in my house and people from Dren are already in town looking for him. I could have mere minutes to spare to keep him from being found. What should I do?"

The unloading of this information seemed to take everyone by surprise. Tappius at length was finally the first to say something. "I'm going to guess giving him back to the plantation is out of the question, then?" Ahsanni shot Tappius a death glare but Zayden gave an affirming nod. "I only ask because, well, why is this either of our concern? No offence to the free kitten in the room but slavery _is legal_ in Vvardenfell. It's enforced by Dunmer tradition and, for the moment, Empire swords. Why are we risking out necks?"

"This Argonian was a free man of status in Black Marsh. A member of the Mages Guild! And he was rejected and sold into slavery by his guild master. I know this because he told me as much before. We had met before, on my first free day in Vvardenfell since arriving. We spoke at length on the silt strider to Balmora. I believe his story and I trust him. And now he needs our help."

Tappius remained indifferent but ultimately accepting of the response he received. Ahnassi, meanwhile, seemed much more ready to believe Zayden. But even still she voiced doubt. "Plantation owners will not easily give up search on escaped property," she advised Zayden. "You can not keep Argonian in your house forever. Ahnassi recommends, if possible, bribing plantation people for slave's worth." Zayden could tell it pained her to talk about slavery in such a matter-of-fact manner. Given her race's history alongside the Argonians with the practice, Zayden could completely understand.

"Seems our best possibility," Zayden agreed. "Does, uh, anyone know the going rate for slaves these days?"

"A thousand gold," Tappius answered. "And if we're going to bride this lizard's masters while they're out actively hunting him down, we'll need it to be worth their while. If I were them, I'd ask for double. One slave for the price of two. They'd be fools to refuse."

Two thousand gold was a hefty sum from any walk of life. Ahnassi audibly groaned at the amount. Before Zayden could ask she answered the yet unspoken question. "Ahnassi _does_ have amount," she relented. "Ahnassi had coin put aside for future expansion and emergencies. If Zayden thinks it is better spent on Argonian…"

"It's your choice," Zayden answered. Ahnassi glared at Zayden. She knew that _he_ knew that she could not refuse such a request. She stood up and voiced another growl, rubbing her tired eyes. She stood like a statue for a long moment before finally lifting her gaze and turning not to Zayden, but to Tappius.

"Leave us," she told him.

"You sure you don't want me to stay?" Tappius asked.

"Ahnassi will be fine. Please, special friend. Go."

Zayden blinked. Ahnassi had only ever call _him _"special friend." Tappius shrugged and made for the door. Zayden watched him leave and could have sworn seeing a smirk on the Imperial's face as he left from sight. Zayden turned back to Ahnassi once the door shut.

"Let Ahnassi assume," she said, "she gives helps you free the Argonian. Pays _two thousand_ gold. What will Zayden do?"

"I… I would bring him back to the South Wall, in Balmora. Sugar-Lips is sympathetic to Twin Lamps and would harbor him for a time, I know it. I'd return, I promise-"

"Stop! Come here, Zayden… Come closer!"

Zayden slowly stepped to Ahnassi and, once within her arm's reach she lunged forward and pulled him in by the clasp of his cloak. The pupils of her now enraged eyes turned to razor slits. The Eye of Fear.

"You will not speak any further! You will only listen to Ahnassi!" she commanded. "You've toyed with Ahnassi's feelings for too long! Ahnassi saw your smooth moves and she fell in love. She heard your plan and imagined a future together. She kept hearing the name 'Zeela' but prayed Zayden would abandon dreams of her and choose Ahnassi instead. Ahnassi was comforted by Zayden for loss of good friend Drelasa. Zayden helped Ahnassi run tavern like she wanted to for many years. Zayden made Ahnassi very happy woman." Tears began to well in her large eyes.

"But still 'Zeela' returned again and again! Ahnassi waited and waited but she can not wait anymore! If Zayden desires Zeela so much Ahnassi suggests go and find her! Ahnassi still loves you, Zayden. Ahnassi will always love you. But if Ahnassi can not have you than Ahnassi wants you to leave.

Leave Pelagiad with your Argonian friend. Ahnassi will negotiate with Dren people and give enough time for you two to escape town. That will be her final gift to you. After that, Ahnassi does not want to see you ever again."

Ahnassi released her grip of Zayden and pushed him away. She groomed the wet fur around her eyes and held back her sobs. Zayden attempted to say something more but she immediate puffed up her fur in warning. And so he said nothing. He turned, left the room, and shut the door behind him. Her sobs began to flow forth as he slowly stepped toward the stairs.

Tappius was standing at the foot of the stairs waiting. "I overheard," he stated. "To be frank I think you're getting off light. I personally would have clawed your face off, were I her."

"It already feels like she ripped my heart out," said Zayden when he reached the bottom. "So you think me a monster as well?"

"Your loyalty to Zeela, though in our minds foolish, is still are no monster, Zayden. But let's be fair. You built Ahnassi up and led her on for months only to push her aside. I'm a hired killer and even _I_ find that cold…"

"Fair enough."

"While I have you here, Zayden, there is something I should confess. I've… I've been sort of spying on you. I've been sending progress reports back to Habasi in Balmora. Per her order."

"I know. I figured out as much several weeks ago."

Tappius attempted to mask his surprise with a scoff. "Yes, of course… But you'll be pleased to hear she is not disappointed with how things have gone. Quite pleased, even in spite of Drelasa's death. She never thought presence in Pelagiad could be strengthened, and you managed to pull it off. If it makes you feel any better I think she hinted at some reward waiting for you upon your return. Also…" Tappius patted a pocket of his pants. "Received a new letter this morning. Ahnassi has been offered a position in the Thieves Guild. She starts off a Toad, like everyone else, but because she basically runs a new bureau location, things will be a bit different for her. I think she'll do just fine."

A smile cracked through Zayden's broken heart. "I think she will too," he agreed. "What about you? Will you return to Balmora with us?"

"No," he replied. "I sent a letter to Habasi yesterday about just that. I kind of like it here, in Pelagiad. Working in the tavern isn't too hard, I get to drink for free, and- sorry to put it this way- but while you were held up in your house like a hermit, not here to help Ahnassi, I _was_. I can be here for her in ways you can't. I won't rub your face in it but I think you know what I mean. You already caught a hint of this upstairs."

"She called _you_ her 'special friend.' Does that mean…?"

"Precisely. Honestly, I never imagined myself with a Khajiit before. _Ever_. But I admit, she has a charm to her. It's not hard to see how she could tempt your loyalties. Yes, I'm going to stay here, with Ahnassi. My correspondence to Habasi basically stated I'm canceling her contract. She can keep the money. I don't really need it anymore. I'll take care of Ahnassi. You have my word."

"Thanks," said Zayden with a grin. He reached out and shook hands with Tappius who then pulled him in for a hug. "Take care of yourself, too."

Zayden stepped out of the Halfway tavern and followed the boulevard toward the fort for a moment before ducking into an alleyway. The same men from Dren Plantation were out in the streets accompanied by a handful of guards. Zayden watched them and waited for Ahnassi to spring into action. As the group passed by she emerged from the tavern and called out to them, claiming she had the escaped slave inside. Once they headed inside Zayden ran back to his house.

He rushed in and found everything undisturbed. Hui poked his head out from beneath the bed. "The men came here," he said, crawling out and back onto his feet. "They banged on the door but quickly gave up. Were you successful?"

"More or less," Zayden answered. He grabbed a cloth sack and began throwing a few supplies and sundries into it. "The men are currently being held up in the tavern. I arranged for them to be bribed into dropping their chase. Whether or not it works it will give us enough time to head off onto the road and, if lucky, hail a late strider to take us to Balmora."

"Balmora?!" Hui exclaimed. "What are you taking me back there for?"

"I'm taking you to the Thieves Guild bureau there. They will hold and keep you safe there." Zayden tossed Hui the bag once it was filled and then tossed him a dark colored blanket and told him to wear it like a cloak. Zayden gathered all his things and then the two set off into the night in a jog, heading north. They cut through the wilderness and followed the coast of Lake Amaya for a little under an hour before reconnecting to the main road. There they slowed their pace to a walk and within two more hours they were able to hail a silt strider to take them the rest of the way.

-o0o-

It was still before the first hint of dawn when the strider arrived to the city. Zayden kept Hui close and stuck to lesser traveled streets and walkways to get across the Odai River and to the South Wall. The first familiar face he saw upon entering the club was Sottilde who was presently manning her usual spot by the door.

"Zayden?" she blurted. "You're back?! We hadn't heard from Tappius that you were returning."

"Things have changed," he quickly replied. "Is Sugar-Lips here?" No sooner had he asked did the Khajiit appear rounding the corner. She quickly began asking similar questions of his appearance but then quickly shifted to the Argonian he was leading inside. Zayden asked her to follow her back to his quarters, where everything would be explained.

Zayden's quarters were vacant, unlocked, and just as barren as they had always been, but for the first time ever it felt like returning home. Hui and Sugar-Lips were led in and Zayden left brieflt to come back and serve everyone food and ale. One everyone had a few bites in he began by asking what Tappius's last letter left off on. Sugar-Lips explained that it had said he and Ahnassi had had their falling out and while the tavern was still financially in the black tensions between the owners had boiled over. Zayden took over from there and recounted the events of just that night, his escape with Hui, and also explaining Tappius's decision on staying before his other letter arrived.

Sugar-Lips seemed oddly more interested in the turn events regarding the Halfway Tavern. She seemed to want to ask more but first took a moment to greet Hui personally. She assured him that he would have protection within the South Wall Cornerclub. She then offered him to return to the cantina and eat and drink his fill as an honored guest. Hui thank her and Zayden before making his leave. Once he had left Sugar-Lips locked the door to the quarters and turned her concerns back to Zayden.

"Firstly," she began, "Khajiit must ask. Did Tappius not mention a personal message to me? Did he give it?"

"Message?" Zayden repeated, think back for a moment. "He did initially mention a message, but by that time he had become too drunk to remember."

"Then allow Khajiit to give it personally." Sugar-Lips took a step forward and with lightning quickness swiped her claws across Zayden's face. Three bloody lines marked his entire left cheek reaching from his ear down to his nose, mouth, and chin. "Do not seek healer for this!" she screamed in a loud hissing voice. "Let them scar as permanent reminder of your failure! _That_ is for going off on own and disrespecting Khajiit's orders! You took massive risk going to Pelagaid! Plan was half-cocked and risked getting too close to Cammona Tong. Guild might be at risk now with escaped Argonian! Khajiit should send Zayden back to home province in chained box!"

Zayden touched his cheek, looked at the blood on his fingers, and said nothing. He was too terrified to do anything but await his fate. He half expected her at any second to bite down on his throat and rip it out with her teeth. "Khajiit should punish Zayden most harshly, and Khajiit will… But as it is, plan _was_ success. Bureau in Pelagiad established. Influence and impact in region will grow. Safe haven for thieves run by good Khajiit. Khajiit is pleased with results.

This, Khajiit thinks, deserves reward. If Zayden is finally going to act like thief, he should look like thief. Khajiit thinks new 'sneaking suit' is in order."

The pain in Zayden's face vanished. Sneak suits were specially designs and tailored suits of light armor made for stealthy operations. Thieves guild, Cammona Tong, and the Dark Brotherhood all had their variations on the concept and only members of higher rank or noted skill could have one made for them. Zeela had one, though Zayden never saw a thread of it, and Sugar-Lips's incomplete set of chitin armor was hers. To have a sneaking suit was a mark of status and honor in any respective guild.

"Thank you, Sugar-Lips," Zayden nearly whispered. "I'm truly grateful. But I am confused. Am I to be rewarded or punished for what I've done?"

"Spare Khajiit your thanks," she hissed once more. "Khajiit will do both. Khajiit rewards good behavior and punishes bad. Your sneaking suit will also be a punishment. Zayden will see soon enough. Khajiit will punish Zayden by other means."

"Yes, ma'am," Zayden relented.

"Good. Now, what of Agonian? Will we make him a brother?"

"I-I have my doubts. He originally came to Vvardefell to join the Mages Guild. He's a nature lover and an alchemist. Not exactly thief material. Although he might know a thing or two about poisons and nerve agents. Materials for making smoke bombs? Brewing our own potions of invisibility?"

"Whatever he can do," Habasi interrupted, "Zayden best figure out. Khajiit will put lizard to work, but make him feel at home. Khajiit can not turn away escaped slave, but Zayden put this burden on South Wall. Khajiit will figure out way to make it our while. Is this also clear?" Zayden nodded. "Khajiit grows tired of looking at your face already. Khajiit needs drink."

Sugar-Lips left Zayden's quarters promptly, leaving the Imperial shook from the simultaneous scolding and reward he received. It all seemed to flow so quickly it was hard for him to grasp just how to feel. His position in the guild was saved and a sneaking suit was now in his future, but a feeling of dread within told him that this suit was going to be a type of poisoned chalice. What else did the Khajiit have in store…?

Zayden eventually returned to the bar and was immediately met with the sight of a drinking contest between Hui and an old Imperial. "Caius!" Zayden exclaimed.

Caius, already half plastered, turned to meet Zaydan and nearly dropped his glass in glee. "By the Divines!" he exclaimed back. "You've returned! Sugar-Lips said you had gone away on permanent assignment, more or less. And what in Oblivion happened to your face?"

"That can be explained later. What is going on here, though?"

"Your friend tells me you helped him escape slavery?! We're celebrating his first free day! But he's still cocky and thinks he can best me and I intend to put him in his place." Zayden glanced at Sugar-Lips and she was glaring back, as if to say "End this nonsense right now."

"It's barely morning, you crazy old bastard!" Zayden laughed. "Same to you, lizard! You should be eating more and getting your scars healed. This contest is over." Zayden split the two competitors apart and brought Hui back to his quarters. Sugar-Lips, meanwhile, was politely leading Caius toward the stairs, urging him to go home. Hui slept until late that even while Zayden was ordered back into the familiar streets of Balmora in search of a healer unaffiliated with the Mages Guild. That task turned out to be slightly harder than expected but nonetheless doable. Hui was healed of all his scars by that evening, they being only surface level burns and whip lacerations. By the next day Hui looked like a new person.

One that same day Zayden with Sugar-Lips's guidance began work on his sneaking suit. The first step was the quickest and easiest: getting measured from head to toe. Next came outlines and sketching of its design. While every sneaking suit was uniquely built to its wearer there existed basic fundamental design themes throughout. They were built primary with mobility, utility, and stealth in mind, with armor and protection being of secondary importance. Zayden studied sketches of other suits for reference.

Zayden spent two full days in pure study of what and how to make his new uniform and, along the way, learned so much. For example, it is common misconception that metal armor is made very heavy and with limited mobility and that one _must_ wear it to have any chance of protecting oneself in a fight. In truth, for the average man living their daily lives, if they even _needed_ armor, one could easily afford padded cloth armor that would cost half as much and protect just as well for the few hits it took to save your life.

It was through this realization that Zayden tossed aside his preconceived notions of bandits in full leather in lue of cloth. He discovered formulas for mixtures of various waxes that could harden when absorbed into the cloth for more protection as well as give shielding from the natural elements, all whilst providing mobility and quiet movement.

It was during this time off study that the aforementioned letter from Pelagaid arrived along with a second one. The new letter was brief, stating Zayden's plan to bribe the Dren Plantation workers had succeeded. The price had to be raised to 2500 gold but in the end the matter was deemed settled and Hui's record would be purged. Hui was now once again a free man.

That night he and Zayden, with Suga-Lips's permission, drank themselves stupid in celebration, stating this would be his last day of fun in a long, long while. The next day Zayen set off with a pocket full of commission slips to give to the various armours, leather workers, seamstresses, and weapons makers in Balmora. All together the task of completing the fully equipped sneaking suit took two weeks and thirteen hundred more gold out of the Balmora bureau coffers. Zayden was put slightly aback by the final amount and wanted so much to feel guilty about so much being spent on him once again. Sugar-Lips, however, seemed oddly nonchalant about the cost. This didn't make Zayden feel any better and would find out soon enough why.

The finalized design of the sneaking suit began with simple black pants and long sleeve shirt, absorbed with a light, soft wax that could repel water, along with a new hooded cloak similarly treated. For armor there was a layered, padded gambeson for the chest and back, padded vambraces for the forearms and elbows that connected to streamline pauldrons for the shoulders, and padded greaves that extended over the knees, all waxed in a thicker solution that both resisted water but hardened to a strength of hard mahogany.

Boiled leather was employed, in largest amounts, to construct a pair of boots that reached three quarters up the calf. A new bandolier and sword belt and sheaths were made by similar fashion to house a new set of steel weapons to replace the old iron: messer short sword, dagger, dagger club, and small and large utility knives. New pouches were affixed to both belts to allow more storage of small items: lock picks, potions, smoke bombs, and caltrops among other items and supplies.

All put together, Zayden's new uniform was something to be admired. "Among the better Khajiit has ever seen," Sugar-Lips had commented, adding that "It should prove useful in days to come." The suit, when finished, was hung up on hangers and on a nail in the wall of Zayden's quarters. Zayden was then promptly informed that he was, until future notice, only to wear his new suit when Sugar-Lips _allowed_ it.

Thus began the hardest, most humiliating months of Zayden's life. Sugar-Lips's punishment "by other means" was indeed harsh and cruel. Zayden was never officially demoted in rank, but was nonetheless told he was, until otherwise said, less than a Toad. Zayden was now a slave to the guild and Sugar-Lips's demands in everything but name. He was made to call her "Mistress," and nothing else. His diet was restricted to only dried scrib jerky, unwashed greens, hard bread and water. No alcohol, no smoking.

But that was not the end of it, nor was it the worst. She intended to work Zayden to the bone and milk his continued labor for every coin possible. Any personal profit he made would go completely to the guild. Protection runs had been made more frequent in Balmora during Zayden's time in Pelagiad and Zayden was put on every single one of them, usually resulting in him doing three or four full days of work a week.

When Zayden wasn't doing guild work he was made to work for South Wall directly as the cantina's new "drink wench," complete with a humiliating pink apron to wear. He waited and served patrons and thieves alike at all hours not spent on guild business. It was made clear by Sugar-Lips that Zayden, specifically, was bound not to refuse _any_ request. If a customer asked him to jump, Zayden asked "How high?" If they wanted their feet scrubbed, "With or without soap?" If they wanted entertainment, he sung and danced. Nothing but the most perverse and extreme request could be refused and people were quick to take advantage.

Zayden every day would return exhausted to his quarters at midnight for his strictly limited six hours of sleep. This was made worse by the sight of an angry Argonian upon his return. Not even Hui, in spite of his otherwise comfortable treatment by Sugar-Lips, was spared from her schemes. She took advantage of Hui's knowledge of plants, herbs, and alchemy to make tools and items for the guild. Smoke bombs, flash bombs, paralyzing agents, mind poisons, and more. He worked for no money and, like Zayden, could not refuse any requests. His only solace was that he was getting practice in and steadily getting better.

This battering of labor went on for months without a day of letting up. All other thieves were ordered to participate in the punishment and for a long while they complied. But as four full months came to an end it became consensus between the other thieves that the lesson had been learned and the man had suffered enough. The period ended one evening when Sugar-Lips, with no warning, served Zayden a thick, bloody steak and cigar and ordered him to put on better attire for dinner. He knew she referred to the sneaking suit.

Zayden left and returned to the cantina, dressed in sneaking suit, to the jeers and cheers of patrons and thieves, who both welcomed the return of their thief and mourned the loss of their wench. A few jeered further for a "speech" and Zayden accepted. He lit his cigar, took up a drink, and with a giant smile on his face announced to the room. "Woe be upon you when the Empire hears about your treatment of me, one of their people! If they ever take hold in Morrowind I hope they burn this place to the ground with all of you in it!" The room laughed and Zayden's punishment was over.

From then forward the days resumed their normal course and Zayden was able to return his mind to the lingering worry of the situation in Vivec. _Still _not a word of the heist had returned to Balmora or the other guild bureaus. And so Zayden was forced once more to wait for Zeela's return. The days turned to weeks, then once again into months. Three more long, newsless months would pass until finally, at absolute long last, word came from Vivec.

It came abruptly, on an unassuming evening in South Wall. Zayden and Hui, along with the other guild members, were all eating and drinking in the cantina. At one point Habasi descended from upstairs and began to walk about the room, speaking into the guild members' ears. When she got to Zayden she repeated the message. "Bacola about to make announcement. Meet behind club. Hui not allowed."

She went to a few more people before the South Wall's owner, an Imperial named Bacola Closcius, headed to the bar and got the entire room's attention by tapping a metal platter with a spoon. The cantina fell into silence. "Cantina's closing early today," he announced. "Everyone finish your drinks and please leave. We'll open an hour early tomorrow for your troubles."

The patrons reacted to this with confusion, compounded by the further lack of explanation. Nevertheless they slowly began to file out up the stairs, Thieves Guild members along with them. Hui asked Zayden if he knew what this was about and got nothing in response. Eventually he and Zayden left as well, Zayden handing the other ten coins for a night in an inn, telling him he could return tomorrow.

Hui left for the center of the city and Zayden regrouped with the other thieves behind the South Wall. They all sat together leaning against a wall. Zayden lit a cigar and joined them and awaited a new sign. It came half an hour later when Habasi rejoined the others and told them to return to the cantina. Once everyone had gone back downstairs she took a place at the head of the room and presented an open letter.

"Khajiit has received news from Vivec," she began. Already an excited murmur filled the room. "As of eight days ago the height on the bank vault was executed. Khajiit is happy to report operation was success." The excitement grew, a few cheers escaping some. "A grand sum was taken and is to be split amongst four main bureaus, small portion also allocated to new branch in Pelagaid. Amount sent to South Wall will be in amount of fifteen thousand." The room then exploded into cheers and applause. Ale was quickly passed out and people began drinking. But Sugar-Lips raised a hand and brought the room back down.

"Khajiit must, unfortunately, temper good news with bad. Over twenty worked together to make heist possible. Three were caught and killed by guard. Another two are missing. Remaining group returned to rendezvous point after heist. Remaining thieves waited three days before splitting up. Zeela remains one of the missing. Other bureaus have promised to keep eye out for missing thieves. Portion of heist sum will come to South Wall by tomorrow.

Tonight let us drink! To great success and to Zeela's safe return!"

The room held up their drinks and gave a cheer. In spite of the ill news the rest of the evening in the cantina was full of merriment. Food and drink was served in abundance and everyone ate twice their full. All but Zayden, who only drank thrice his. Habasi attempted throughout the night to console him and promise him that Zeela would soon return. But Zayden was beside himself and nothing said to him seemed to matter. He now had in the deepest pit of his core a crippling feeling that Zeela was dead. He was now convinced of this and nothing could change his mind.

His despair grew and grew as the days went by. For nearly three days he rarely left his quarters, spending most hours of the day drinking. Habasi and Hui checked up on him from time to time but soon surmised that he would remain there, safe until he worked through his grief on his own. That would prove to be their mistake for it was during that time, five days after the news broke, that Zayden managed to escape into the night in his broken state.

It was during that escape that Zayden drudged himself across the city to another bar and began drinking with a stranger. Had he not been so broken Zayden would have been able to pick up the stranger's ill demeanor and could have prevented his capture.


	9. Moon and Star

Chapter 9: Moon and Star

Zayden awoke with a splitting pain in his head. At first he thought it the same hangover he had been enduring the past four days. But this pain came from the crown of the head, not its center. He reached to feel the bump only to find his arms bound behind his back. He then realized that the darkness around him was not the night but a blindfold over his eyes. He attempted to scream but found his mouth bound as well.

A voice sounded somewhere in front of him. "Captain! He's woken up!" a man said.

Another man, presumably the captain, answered a moment later. "Just keep him still. We're still a few hours out."

Zayden remained still for a moment and took in his surroundings with his other senses. There was the sound of rushing wind, the aggressive rustling of canvas covering, the constant creek of wood. He was in a covered wagon. He smelled the air and remembered the sent: the ashen dirt of the Ashlands.

Zayden voiced a few pleading moans and once more caught the first voice's attention. "I think he wants to say something. Should I?" There was no response said but the man then spoke to Zayden directly. "If I remove your gag will you keep quiet? Not do any screaming?" Zayden nodded and the gag was removed.

"Who are you?" Zayden asked.

"We are agents of the Blades," the captain responded. "We are here to fulfil your duties to the Emperor and the Imperial Empire."

"What duties?"

"The duties that brought you to Vvardenfell in the first place. Have you forgotten? You were brought here by direct order of Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself." A name Zayden had not heard in a very long time, a name that conjured fevered memories of his first days in Morrowind. "You were meant to follow dictate of prophecy."

Like a flooding wave the long dormant events of a few years past came rushing back into full memory. "Nerevarine…" Zayden whispered aloud. Much had been so pushed into the back of his memories. It was hard to recall it all at once. "Caius…"

"Hmm, yes. Caius. His treason has already been dealt with."

An icy chill now flooded over Zayden at the uttering of those words. "Treason?" he repeated. "What happened to Caius? What have you done to him?!" Zayden was struck in the chest.

"You said you would stop your yelling," the captain chided. "But yes, Caius Cosades for his failure to enact the will of the Emperor and follow the Nerevarine Prophecy has branded him a traitor to the Empire. His _treason_ has been dealt with."

Again the chill swelled over him, quickly replaced with burning rage. "You bastards!" Zayden spat. "You killed him, didn't you? You killed Caius! Because he refused to send another man to his death you killed him, you fucking- Gah!" Zayden was struck again and harder. He rolled over from the impact and coughed into the wooden boards beneath him.

"Caius Cosades is a traitor to the Empire," the captain reiterated. "We will finish what he refused to. Keep quiet now, Imperial. We still have a long ways to go…"

Zayden buried his head into the floorboards and began to weep for the memory of Caius. It was not so long ago that they had first crossed paths. He had come into Caius's life at his lowest point and had inadvertently helped him turn it around. Caius had done the same for Zayden by merely stepping aside and letting him choose his own future, a choice that now cost him his life. How could an Emperor condemn a man to death for giving another his freedom? What kind of Emperor could do such a thing? Perhaps one not worth obeying…

The covered wagon continued on and on, shaking and jostling with every rock and soft dip in the soil. Zayden could not have known for how long he wept but even when it subsided there still remained a long stretch of silence during the journey. It eventually got broken when a previously unspoken man retrieved from his bag a flask of flin. The flask was passed between the men and soon the wagon began to fill with the scent of freshly lit tobacco.

Zayden waited until the men had a few swigs between the few before daring to speak again. He no longer cared if he was going to get hit again. Zayden began by simply asking "Where are you taking me?"

At first no one answered, as if they had forgotten they had a captive. The captain answered "We are taking you to a shrine of Azura, Daedric Prince. Within will be a ring sitting in the hands of a statue of Azura. You will put on this ring and that will determine if you are as the prophecy states."

"How? What will happen if I am, indeed, the Nerevarine?"

Another moment of silence. "We suspect," said the captain, "that the Goddess will speak to you and guide you to your step in the prophecy."

"'Suspect?'" Zayden repeated. More silence. "Are you even Blades? I wonder what's going to happen to you when you're found out to be imposters. What the _Emperor_ will do when he learns you've killed his spymaster. What _I'll_ do to you fucks when I put on the ring, nothing happens, and I get my hands on y-"

*Wack!*

The blow went into the side of his jaw courtesy of an armored foot. Zayden rolled over and collapsed into the floorboards again, writhing in his new pain. "You're in no position to make threats," the first man said. "Besides, it won't matter if we've 'wasted your time,' because if we did you'll be dead."

Zayden listened to the captain get up and deliver a punch to the other man so hard that it made another person gasp. A few bumps of the wagon later sent the now unconscious man falling over next to Zayden on the floor.

Zayden forced a few chuckles through the pain in his jaw as the captain groaned a few curses under his breath. "So that's it," groaned Zayden. "Blades or not, you really don't know what you're doing out here, do you? You're just following orders, like drones for a hive." Zayden heard the captain approach again and braced for another strike. Instead he had his blindfold violently ripped off him and after a few seconds his eyes adjusted to look upon his captors.

These were no thugs, guards, or soldiers Zayden had ever laid eyes on before. Each man, all Imperial, were clad in full plate armor of a design he had only seen in history texts. The curved swords they had sheathed at their sides only confirmed that it was Akaviri. Zayden had guessed wrong, they were true Blades.

"... You really killed Caius, did you?" Zayden asked.

The captain furrowed his brow and returned to his seat on the opposite end of the wagon. "We took no pleasure in doing so," he admitted, "but he admitted to his crimes willingly. He defied a direct order from the Emperor Himself. Such for a Blade is treason, punishable by death. His crimes had to be met. And you, Zayden, will be tested for the Nerevarine prophecy."

Zayden glanced at the unconscious Blade next to him. "What did he mean," he then asked, "that I would be dead? If I fail, will you kill me?"

"No. The ring we spoke of goes by two names: 'Moon-and-Star' and 'One-Clan-Under-Moon-And-Star.' It was worn by Chimer King, Lord Indoril Nerevar. It acts now as judge of his reincarnation. By Azura's decree it would reveal Indoril's reincarnation- the Nerevarine- to fulfil the Nerevarine Prophecy. This is so because all others who are not the Incarnate, who put on the ring, die instantly. If you fail, we will have no need to kill you."

"Of what concern does the Emperor have with Dunmer religion?" Zayden then asked. "No one sane does anything without self interest. What would the Emperor- the Empire- gain from this prophecy? Have you ever thought of that?" The captain looked between his other men but nothing was suggested. "Nothing. Ever the drones, you lot."

"Spare us, Zayden, your mind games. And spare us your 'holier-than-thou' treatment. What have _you_ done in the name of 'Following orders?' Steal? Extort? Kill, even if in self defence? You claim our hands soiled? Look upon yours first."

"The Thieves Guild is practically a branch of the Empire, fool. Your glorious Emperor props up an explicitly criminal organization in Vvardenfell."

"Only by necessity. We work to this day to grow so we may eliminate it. If you could end the Thieves Guild right now, on righteous principle, would you? Or do you depend on it too much? Do you enjoy being a criminal too much to give it up, now…? The Empire has already begun to eradicate the Thieves Guild in Cyrodiil, as well as the other provinces. If you ever return to your homeland, Imperial, you may find it a very unwelcome place."

Zayden dismissed the captain's intimidation. He found it fairly hard to believe that the Empire would be willing to rid itself of something like the Thieves Guild- ethical or not- because of how well it worked. He recognized his bias to the subject but it nevertheless did not make sense to him. Not wanting to talk to the captain any further, Zayden turned his attention to the unconscious man next to him. "Perhaps he should be woken up?"

The captain conceded and woke him up by throwing some water at him. He then ordered him to keep his big mouth shut for the remainder of their journey. He meekly agreed and for the entire remainder of the long ride no one spoke further.

At long last the wagon made a sudden stop, the coach calling to the back. "We have arrived," he stated.

Zayden was picked up and the three Blades follow him and filed out of the back of the wagon. The light of the setting sun in the west shone but to the east a large black cloud forbode ill weather. They had entered a narrow passage between high rock walls and stalagmite pillars that continued south a little before arching back around west. The captain ordered the teamster to stay where he was before he took Zayden by his still bound hands and led him forward, followed by the other two Blades.

Winds began to pick up slightly as the group rounded the path and began to climb a small hill. Ahead was what looked like at a distance a gigantic split boulder, its flat face presented toward them. Only upon coming closer did the surface reveal a pair of stone doors built from the rock itself, its surface filled with a detailed pattern of six-pointed stars and crescent moons. The captain stopped Zayden and undid his hands and looked to the now fading sunlight. "You must be the one to approach the door. Do so quickly, for it only opens at the hour of dawn and dusk. Such is the realm of Azura. Quickly!"

Zayden took a few measured steps forward and gently touched the surface of the door. Immediately a voice, as clear as a whisper in his ear, sounded over the winds.

IN THE DAWN HOUR UNDER AZURA'S STAR, THE DOOR IS OPENED

Zayden looked back to the guards and the captain. They all, too, heard the voice. Zayden tuend back to the door and they began to split open down the center, stopping just wide enough for a man to slip through. "Go," the captain urged and he followed Zayden inside, ordering the others to stand watch outside.

Beyond the door was a single straight cavern, the ceiling covered in a luminescent moss that bathed everything in an aqua haze. Ahead in the distance was shrine to the Goddess and Daedric Prince Azura, a tall stature of her image sitting, Her hands cupped and open forward. In the center of Her hands glinted a small white light.

Zayden inched toward the shrine, step by step, the wind from the ever increasing ash storm howling outside. When the two got within ten feet of the glint of light figures began to appear in the haze. They collessed into six figures, three men and three women, all Dunmer, dressed in ancient clothing. They spoke together in a unified voice.

_We appear before you your forebearers. We all shared in destiny of the Nerevarine Prophecy. We all failed and fell within this place. We wish you success from our failure. If not, then we promise you warmth in our company._

The Blade captain was quickly becoming inraptured by this place and what he saw. He no longer urged Zayden further and instead became very still and wide eyed. Zayden took a few more steps toward the shrine's hands and the light faded from the object it held. It was the ring, Moon-and-Star, a silver band with tiny star and crescent moon of gold set in it like a jewel. Zayden reached for the item and with shaking fingers plucked it with his right hand. He extended his left index finger out before him and, as slowly as one possibly could, brought the tip of his finger closer and closer to the opening of the band.

Zayden wondered if this was to be his last moment living. Would be join these ghosts in eternal shame, in this cavern? Should he say one final thing before parishing. The only thing he could bring forth were tears of terror. Zayden closed his eyes and thought of his friends: Hui, Habasi, Ahnassi, Tappius, Caius. Zeela…

A scream sounded from beyond the parted doors, followed by the sound of crashing armor. The captain and Zayden spun around, the former calling out to the others. "What is it!?" he said, his voice echoing through the cavern. "Answer me!"

His demand was met by the another chilling yell, the sounds of clashing metal, and one final scream that rang like a death bell. The captain unsheathed his katana and was about to charge forward when a figure appeared and pass through the doors into the cavern. It was none of the other Blades but someone else. Some_thing_ else.

It was, by most appearances, merely a man. It was naked and shuffled forward with an erratic, irregular gate. Only when it got closer, putting itself further in the light of the cavern did it reveal its blotted and bloated flesh, dead sunken face, and lifeless look in its eye. It appeared to be an undead, a lesser but more intact version of a bonewalker, but something about this think told Zayden that it was something else.

The thing charged at the captain first, he being the closest. It grabbed at its arm and bean to fruitlessly bite and gnaw at its armored surface. The captain reacted by hacking away at its head, caving it in before it finally fell. Three more of the creature took the killed's place, grouping up to pile on the captain all at once. The captain was easily brought to the ground and began screaming for help. But Zayden had already run past, clutching the ring in his hand.

Zayden slipped through the parted doors and, after being briefly blinded by the now howling winds of an ash storm, had to immediately dodge the attack of yet another of the undead things. He glanced at the dead, torn bodies of the other two Blades for a brief moment before rushing past back town the hill and around the bend in the path. The dust was picked up to such a degree that visibility was limited to a few meters. He stumbled through the gust in the direction the wagon was, figuring he could make a quick escape by taking one of the horses. Alas when the wagon came into sight both horses had been slaughtered along with its teamster.

The undead followed Zayden down the path and were quickly closing the gap. Zayden began running again, past the wagon and further into the chasm. It narrowed ahead to a width the wagon would have barely been able to navigate with ease. Furthermore it twisted and rose and dipped sharply in elevation. Zayden kept slamming into the chasm walls as he rushed to escape the undead, all while the creatures seemed to get closer and louder behind him. The path seemed to go on for an eternity, with no end in sight, and Zayden was only getting more and more exhausted.

When the path seemed to open back up he was met with the sight of even more undead, a few of them taller and more grotesquely bloated than the others. Zayden attempted to rush past but even the big ones were quicker than they appeared. Soon the undead in pursuit caught back up and Zayden found himself surrounded. He clutched Moon-and-Star in his left hand tighter and unsheathed his sword. He knew he could not cut them all down but was determined to take as many as he could before falling.

A few of the smaller undead made a charge but stopped at a sudden flash of light behind them. There then came another, a roar of a rush of flames in accompaniment. A third erupted in the center of the pursuer group. A fourth hit the same undead but hit much closer to Zayden, the blast and force knocking him off his feet. A maelstrom of smaller ones then began to rain down on the undead, most missing and a few nearly missing Zayden by a few feet.

Zayden clammored to his feet and used the moment of confusion to make another break for safety, but another volley fell from the sky. A stray fireball struck Zayden in the back of the leg and sent him collapsing forward back to the ground, the ring slipping from his grasp. Before he could grasp it he got pinned down by one of the bigger undead. It used its one, engorged arm to beat and scratch at Zayden's back with extra-ordinary strength. It tore through cloak and gambeson and finally the flesh beneath. Zayden uselessly tried to flip himself over and swing his sword behind him. They only thing that saved him was a third volley of fire, one bolt striking the bulky undead and sending it rolling off Zayden.

Zayden forced himself onto his knees only to fall forward again. Whether or not the undead managed to break Zayden's spine it felt as if it did. He made one more failed attempt before spotting through the sand and wind the Moon-and-Star ring just out of reach. He crawled forward and made a wide, clamping grasp for the item and managed to just grasp it by slipping his little finger through the band.

The very instant it did, Zayden's world disappeared.

-o0o-

_My world has become nothing. I see nothing, can touch nothing, hear nothing. The ring must have killed me. I must be dead. The cavern ghost will be glad to have new company._

_No, wait. I can see something. It's faint at the moment, and distant… Stars. Portals to Aetherius, Magnus the greatest in size. Nirn lies below, Tamriel upon it. It all seems so peaceful and unchanging from this place._

_The Aedra, Lorkhan, trickster and architect of the mortal realm was killed here as punishment for his deceit. His body was torn apart and scattered. Two parts became the moons, Masser and Secunda. His heart fell to Nirn and into the ocean, a Red Mountain forming above it and a fence of ghosts around it. But built by who…?_

_That image fades… I see… My friends. Sotha Sil, wizard and tinkerer. Vivec, warrior poet, and my general. Almalexia, my wife, passionate and motherly to all._

_I see Voryon Dagoth. We all stand deep beneath the earth, beside the great heart. Everyone begins to change._

_Dagoth touches the heart and dawns a golden mask. He stands opposite the others._

_Sotha Sil steps back and becomes machine than elf._

_Vivec steps back and become half Chimer and Dunmer, half man and woman._

_Almalexia steps back and becomes mad with love for her people._

_I collapse and begin to die. All look on and none come to my aid. Dagoth with tears and the Tribunal with apathy._

_Azura speaks._

NEREVAR REBORN. INCARNATE.

YOUR FIRST THREE TRIALS ARE FINISHED.

NOW TWO NEW TRIALS LIE BEFORE YOU.

SEEK THE ASHLANDERS ASHKHANS AND THE GREAT HOUSE COUNSELORS.

FOUR TRIBES MUST NAME YOU NEREVARINE.

THREE HOUSES MUST NAME YOU HORTATOR.

MY SERVANT, NIBANI MAESA, WILL BE YOUR GUIDE, AND WHEN YOU ARE HORTATOR AND NEREVARINE, WHEN YOU HAVE STOOD BEFORE THE FALSE GODS AND FREED THE HEART FROM ITS PRISON, HEAL MY PEOPLE AND RESTORE MORROWIND.

DO THIS FOR ME AND WITH MY BLESSING.

Zayden awoke screaming.


	10. Tel Fyr

Chapter 10: Tel Fyr

Every inch of Zayden's body felt like it was burning. His vision was so clouded that with his hand outstretched he could not count his own fingers. The pain came in endless waves with no dip in intensity. His howls filled the cavern but there came no response but his own echoes.

When after several minutes of calling out into the void, when it became clear no aid was arriving, he focused his strength in sitting up from the bed he found himself on. He looked around and saw only the color of stone, close and distant flickering light, and an air that seemed tinged with a sickly green fog. To the right of his bed was a table with an oil lantern and small mechanical device. It was a box of a metal of bronze and rust color that raised and dropped a soft mallet onto the surface of a drum every few seconds. The dull thud of the beat seemed to reverberate and fill the cavern well.

After a few minutes Zayden heard the sound of footsteps. He turned his head to attempt to see the blur that approached. They were irregular steps and seemed to switch at random between stumbling footfalls and dragging of the feet. The sound's source revealed itself as a vague human shape, one that approached Zayden slowly. He called out to the person but it gave no answer. Only when it was within a few feet could he hear its haunting moans and, in a flash of terror, Zayden realized that it was another of the terrors that attacked him.

The creature approached Zayden but once it got within arm's reach he pushed it away with all the strength his arms could muster. It went stumbling and falling backwards. Zayden frantically searched for anything with which to defend himself. He grabbed the oil land and was a mere moment from throwing it when more footsteps approached, rapid and in control.

The new figure put itself between the creature and Zayden and began to make gentle pushing motions at the creature as if pleading it to turn away and move along. Surprisingly it worked, the creature turning and shuffling off in the opposite direction back down the cavern.

"The creatures here will not harm you," the new arrival said. "The drum machine by your bed calms them. It was merely curious and wanted a better look at you." She turned and approached Zayden and eased him back into the bed. Even when she knelt right next to Zayden he could not make out many discernible features apart from gray skin. He could only rely on his ears to hear her voice.

"I can tell you are in pain," she said. "Please, drink this." She presented Zayden a small vial of liquid. "This will ease the burning."

Zayden felt his head get propped up by a hand before the bitter liquid was poured down his throat. He nearly gagged the potion back up twice before it settled in his stomach. Slowly over the next few minutes the burning feeling subsided until it reached an almost tolerable level. Once that settled he was given another bitter drink that the woman promised would help his eyesight, but that it would take longer to take effect.

Zayden managed to calm down just enough to rest his back down on the pillow beneath it. He turned to face his aid who was still very much unidentifiable. "Who are you?" he strained to ask.

"I am Uupse Fyr, daughter and wife of my master, Divayth Fyr, and caretaker here in the Corprusarium." Had Zayden not been in such pain he would have reacted to such an absurd introduction with a bit more humor. But things as they were he could only manage to give a long, silent blink. "I… Perhaps that was a bit too much all at once? We are his daughters because he made us, but we were never born of a woman, and we are like his wifes- my sisters and I, that is- in that we perform duties in Tel Fyr and occasionally make love to-"

"O-Okay, okay," Zayden interrupted, "I'll take your word for it… Where, again, did you say we are?"

"The Corprusarium. It is these cavern beneath Tel Fyr tower where we hold victims of the Corpus disease. That thing you pushed back was what we call a 'stalker.'"

"Those things attacked me before," Zayden explained.

"Yes, but as I said, in this place they are not frenzied. They will wander harmlessly if left alone. I can understand your fear, though, after your attack… Your back was very badly lacerated." Zayden looked down to realize that he was barely dressed and his entire chest and back was wrapped in bandages. Peeking out from the bandages were hints of bloated, necrotic skin.

"What is happening to me?" Zayden gasped. "My skin is turning to one of those things!"

"Yes," Uupse solemnly admitted. "You, unfortunately, have been infected with the disease. Corprus. It is why you have been brought here, to the Corprusarium, in the hopes of being cured. By this stage it has been at least two days of decay. If- _until_, forgive me- you are cured, healing magic will be futile for your skin. Fortunately my master has taken particular interest in you, Ne- Zayden- and has focused all of his and Yagrum's efforts in curing you. I have a good feeling that they will succeed."

"I was brought here?" Zayden asked. "The last thing I remember was being surrounded by those 'stalkers' and being rained on by fire. Who brought me here?"

"Your friends," Uupse answered. "The Argonian and the Dunmer." Zayden nearly fell over forward from sitting back up so quickly. "I can see you wish to see them," she laughed. "If you are not in too much pain I shall bring one down to see you now." Zayden nodded and Uupse left him, giving him one last warning not to harm the other Corprus victims. Zayden leaned back down on his bed, his heart pounding. '_Dunmer.'_

Zayden's vision very slowly returned to him and the burning continued to throb dully throughout his entire body. He watched another two Corprus creatures pass seemingly unaware of his presence. They seemed to walk aimlessly to ends of the cavern without mind or direction. It sent a shiver down within him to think he was infected like them, that if not cured he could _be_ like the monsters that nearly killed him.

By the time Zayden heard controlled footsteps again his eyesight had nearly returned. From a distance he saw a figure dressed completely in dark colors. The closer it came the more the clothing revealed itself to be a sneaking suit. The person's skin was gray and the hair was short, only a few inches in length. But when she knelt down next to the bed and brought her smiling face close to his there was no longer any guessing.

Zeela pulled herself forward and wrapped her arms around Zayden in a crushingly tight embrace, her face buried into his shoulder blade and neck. She took care not to touch his bandages and wounds. Zayden reached his arms around her and for a long time no one dared break the silence. The embrace finally broke when Zeela had to pull herself slightly back and she brought her face close to his. "I missed you so much," she said through soft sobs and tear-smeared eyes. "Uupse said your eyesight was not very good. How well can you see me?"

"... Your face!" Zayden exclaimed, reaching a hand to her cheek. A new, deep and freshly healed scar ripped through her face from the bridge of her nose and down her right cheek to her jaw line. He ran a finger across its rough surface. "And your hair!" he added, then running his finger through her chopped, pixie hair. "By Azura, what happened!?"

"The same could be said of you," she said back, running her fingers down the three pale scars left by Sugar-Lips. "That Khajiit really left you a present here… Besides, you already know what happened to _me_. The heist did not go _exactly_ as planned. What rotten fortune. Ten years of planning, months of execution, and three dead to show for it in the end. Thousands in gold, yes, but three dead. I guess we both have failures to account for now.

Then again, you've been quite busy in my absence, haven't you? Racketeering, 'Rat Killer,' a sneaking suit, _and_ you help the guild expand in Pelagiad. Not a bad job, save for your little bender that wound you up here… What are you smiling for?"

"We haven't seen or spoken to each other in two years," Zayden answered, "and after all this time, upon our reuniting, broken as I am, you make jokes at my expense."

"Only because I love you," she said with a quick kiss on the forehead. "Would you honestly expect otherwise from me? I want it to feel as if we parted only yesterday and nothing has changed between us, even though much has."

"After your parting gift to me was a drugged drink? I'm not sure I _want_ things to return to as they were!" Zayden tried to laugh but quickly found himself coughing and wincing from a new flare of burning pain.

"If it is any comfort, I do regret what I did to you. But in the moment I felt as if I had to, especially after the way you pledged yourself to me. It was something none had ever done for me before. It honestly took me by surprise and it nearly caused me to break my commitment to the heist. I knew that if I didn't leave the way I did I would have given in and spent the night with you, and then I would have never left."

"Somehow that doesn't make me feel any better."

"Then perhaps _this_ will; I thought about you nearly every day we were apart. About how you were, what you were doing, and the promise you made me. Sugar-Lips managed to tell me about what you had done in my absence, before I set off to find you. I couldn't have been happier. No one had even shown me such devotion or… _love_." She leaned back forward and lightly pressed her forehead to his. "You fulfilled your promise to me and so shall I. If you survive your infection, consider me your wife."

Zayden leaned forward to kiss Zeela but she quickly pulled back, much to his confusion. "We shouldn't. Divayth Fyr warned that that is how the disease spreads, through the sharing of fluids. We can not risk anything until we are sure you have been cured."

"When will that be?" Zayden asked.

"Perhaps a few more days, he thinks. He's promised all his attention is focused on curing you."

Zayden leaned back into his bed and sighed. "So I must remain here then, amongst the infected… You said you had set off after me? How were you able to find me?"

"I returned to Balmora only half a day after you had been declared missing. Again, what rotten luck we have! By then thieves were following your trail and combing the city for your whereabouts. Sugar-Lips introduced me to Hui and, like I said, explained what had happened in my absence. A few hours passed before a pair of thieves returned to South Wall claiming that they had a confession. An Imperial they thought was a legionnaire said they had captured you and were already fast on the trail northeast, deep into the Ashlands.

I pleaded Sugar-Lips to let me follow the trail and she accepted. Then the lizard insisted that he come along too. He wouldn't take no for an answer. We left as soon as we could and hijacked a strider to take us-"

"You stole a silt strider?!" Zayden gasped.

"We had no other choice. You were at least a day's ride out. It was the only way we could catch up. Those striders really are amazing beasts. They can ride as fast as a horse and they have incredible stamina. The beastmaster never stopped to rest and the beast never slowed pace. Had we taken anything else we would have never caught up when we did."

"So the fire… That was Hui?" Zeela nodded. "I thought he was an alchemist, not a battle mage."

"He told me he knew basic spells in destruction. When we finally caught up with you and saw you surrounded he started slinging fire immediately. He shot out such large bolts at first that he nearly collapsed from exhaustion right away. Thankfully he remained awake and followed up with the rain of smaller bolts that saved you. But not quickly enough, it seems.

The creatures finally scattered and we were able to reach you. You had already been knocked unconscious. We load you into the strider and the beastmaster told us that an Ashlander camp was nearby, that maybe they would be able to help you.

Het took us east for another day, into the Grazelands and to Ahemmusa Camp. There we met with the tribe's wise woman and healer. The healer mended much of the lacerations on your back but the skin around it had already began to turn necrotic. The wise woman insisted that you were a lost cause. You had contracted Corprus and within two weeks you would become another of the stalking husks that attacked you.

But as we were being led out of the village the wise woman she noticed the ring you had dangling from the small finger of your hand. Her mood immediately changed from revulsion to elation, though she would not say why. She began insisting that we head south, following the coast until we reached the clustered archipelago around Sadrith Mora. If we kept following the coast further we would see just off the shore a Telvanni tower called Tel Fyr, owned by wizard Divayth Fyr. She said he would be your best chance to help cure you of your Corprus.

So we headed south for two more days and came upon the tower. I had only heard about Telvanni towers through stories, that they were large plant grows manipulated through magic and hollowed out to be lived in. I never thought they were as tall and complex as this one! Zayden, you must see what is above you when you're cured! And what's more is that Divayth himself said his tower was 'modest' in size and I don't think he was being humble.

Hopefully you will get to meet Divayth as well. He's… an odd one. Not what I would expect from a wizard of his apparent talent. When we brought you to him he quickly ordered you into these caverns, the Corprusarium, with the other victims of the disease, but not without taking a sample of your blood first. He had an odd, merely amused reaction to being shown the ring. He carefully took it off your fingers and claimed he needed to study it while your cure was being formulated alongside a man named Yagrum. He apparently lives deeper in these caverns as well, with Uupse. I have yet to meet him myself."

"I remember the ring," Zayden said. "When you two had arrived and rained fire I remember crawling and making a grasp for it. After that… I remember nothing. Only waking up here, in this cavern, in splitting pain. I feel as if I am meant to remember something between that moment and this, but…"

Zayden wanted desperately to stay awake and think and listen to Zeela speak. After being apart for so long, not knowing if they would ever reunite, being here with her felt blessed. But an effect of the pain medicine was drowsiness and it slowly became harder and harder for the Imperial to keep his eyes open. Zeela finally noticed this and decided to let him sleep, promising she would be back soon, with Hui, to continue their time together.

Zayden drifted off to sleep and was awoken by Uupse several hours later. She had come bearing a serving tray with food and water, fresh bandages to replace the old, and a new vial of the painkiller medicine. She changed the bandages as Zayden took the medicine and began to eat. Uupse explained it was early in the morning above. Zayden asked if Uupse could let his friends know he was awake and, if possible, let her master know he wanted to speak with him.

Uupse was more than happy to inform Hui and Zeela but hesitated on the latter request. "Master Divayth has fully committed himself to your cure Ne- Zayden," Uupse said. "I'm afraid he will be quite unavailable until it is ready. But I will send for your friends right away."

"If it is early let them sleep for a little longer. There seems no reason to rush. But if you could get me something to read? Conversation is in short supply around here."

Uupse laughed at Zayden's joke as if it was the funniest she had heard in a long time. "I would be glad to retrieve you one. Any subject in particular. Divayth's library is quite extensive." Zayden merely shrugged. "Then I shall pick something to last you the next few days then."

"Uupse… You spend so much of your days here, in the Corprusarium. You take care of the victims but it all seems quite lonely."

"Not at all, really," Uupse interjected. "I _do_ have Yagrum for company. He is a brilliant mind and good conversationalist. Master Divayth visits regularly as well. No, Zayden, I do not find myself lonely at all. I love taking care of these poor things. Divayth always said I had the biggest heart of my sisters. They think me odd but I don't care."

"And this Yagrum. He is a Corprus victim as well? Yet you converse with him. He is not a husk like the others? How can that be?"

Uupse scrunched her face and looked like she was forcing back her answer. "Master Divayth has warned me not to say too much to you about Yagrum. He insisted he will introduce the two of you himself, when the time comes. Forgive me, sir… There, the bandages are set. I shall take my leave. I'll relay a message to your friends in a few hours to come down." Uupse gathered up her supplies and went on, leaving the food tray on the nearby table.

Zayden finished his meal and the full pitcher of water before the pain medicine began to kick in. He dozed off once again only to be awoken a few hours later by Zeela, this time with Hui. Zeela came with a tall serving vessel of cromberry wine and three glasses, Hui clutching a large book picked out by Uupse. Hui was quick to apologise to Zayden for burning his leg and Zayden was quick to forgive. The three sipped their wine and spoke at great length to pass the time. Inevitably the conversation fell upon Zeela and her heist. She was willing to recall the events.

She and the nineteen others involved in the operation met in a secret location and shared one final briefing before making their staggered arrival to Vivec. One person would arrive every three days to ward off suspicion. Each member had an alias and a daily schedule within the city to follow. Some got hired as dock hands and would regularly take gondolas that brought them around the canton where the bank was. They had discovered an exit near a gondola path and mapped out a window of time late in evenings when a boat would pass and one could make escape on.

Others worked in local taverns and pubs. It was not hard to track a member of the bank's staff after working hours to one of these places. It was even easier to, after a few drinks, get said employees to divulge bank secrets. Zayden asked if this was what Zeela did and, to his surprise, she said no.

Only people who were the true masterminds of the heist took the positions with the most potential danger: working within the bank itself. This is what Zeela did. She was officially a type of secretary but day-to-day she was not much more than a document runner/courier. She was quick and agile on her feet and soon gained a reliable reputation within the business as well as the personal attention of the chief executives. One of the executive's interests were romantic but she played a consistent cat-and-mouse game that kept him distracted and not paying attention to the heist's goings on.

The heist, after ten years of planning, felt just as long for the months leading up to the fateful day. Operatives played their roles day in and day out faithfully and without fail. They did this until everyone was confident enough to do their jobs blindfolded, predict the actions of others before they were done, and could execute the theft in their sleep. Finally, at long last, the day came.

And something went wrong.

Zeela confessed that to this day she still does not know what exactly happened. The bank vault shut for the night slightly too early? The gondola ferryman was out sick that day? One of the thieves might have lost their nerves at the last possible moment? Whatever it was, when the job was exposed, chaos broke out. A stand off occurred outside the main vault and guards converged on it in waves. Zeela heard the sound of clashing weapons from where she was in the main lobby. She played the part of the frightened coworker so she might slip away, head to the water exit and help unload the gold onto the boat and head off. But she too was exposed before she had the chance to leave.

Another employee of the bank, a quiet and unassuming teller, noticed Zeela was attempting to slip away. She began to shout and scream for the guard in a hysterical manner. Zeela tried to get her to shut up but the only thing that worked in the end was a swift hit of a pommel from a hidden dagger to her temple. A guard spotted the commotion and began to attack Zeela. She managed to dodge his first swing but the follow-up swing was fast and connected to her face, giving her her new scar. Zeela returned the favor and threw the dagger into the guard's eye before bolting off.

Zeela darted and weeved through the confused and frightened people crowding the canton landings. She had to push her way through throngs of onlookers to make it to the lower level, down to the water level docks, and rendezvous with the gondola. Two more operatives had already hijacked one boat and had three more waiting for the others to arrive with the money. They got worried when they spotted Zeela not in her position and she quickly explained what had happened. The two decided that they would remain put for ten more minutes and if no one else arrived they would leave.

The boat lamps were doused and in the stillness of the night the three waited for what felt like an eternity. A yell and shriek came echoing over the water every several moments, the clamor no doubt growing. The three waited and waited until finally a group came running over. It was ten of the operatives, each clutching under each of their arms at least two heavy sacks of gold septums. They tossed all the bags into two of the boats and boarded the other two and set off. Everyone took an oar and gently set off to the west. Each paddle forward was slow and careful not to churn any water or make any noise.

The two paddle boats towed the two money boats out off the main canton complex and past the Telvanni canton through a narrow valley into the archipelago region that bordered the Molag Amur region. The river turned north into Nabia River that led toward Lake Masobi. The plan was to briefly dock in Suran and unload the money onto guar-driven carts and have it taken away to associates in Molag Mal, where the coins would be counted and split up. Everyone else would continue on and disembark on the western side of the river and continue on foot to a shack in the Fields of Kummu, where they would hide out until news of the amount came back.

The boats made it to Suran, the money was passed off, and the company began the final stretch of the journey on foot. But word must have reached Suran of the heist in Vivec. It must have been by bird, alerting the guard that the company might be passing through. The cart was able to slip by and head back south along the coast but Suran must have had its entire guard on patrol. The company was spotted from across the river and men on guar, armed with bows and spears, were sent up the road to cross the bridge to intercept them. The company had only minutes to spare until everyone would be run down.

The bridge the horses had to cross was in sight. It was a sturdily made rope bridge that could take the weight of only one rider at a time. Zeela thought fast and came up with a plan. She snatched up all the smoke and flash bombs the other party members had and began pouring their contents out on the ground next to the bridge's supporting posts. She then tied the fuses together to create one long string and lit it. She had a comfortable space for she and the others to retreat before the pile exploded, shattering the posts and sending the bridge crashing into the river below. Zeela ordered the others to head on to the Fields of Kummu, stating that she would act as distraction.

The guard in Suran clustered helplessly on the other side of river, unsure what to do next. Zeela revealed herself to them and taunted that they should follow her before heading off north, following the Nabia River once again. The mounted guard followed at leisurely pace, now believing they had the advantage. After all, she was on foot, always within eyesight, and they could easily outlast her with their mounts. They followed for hours, occasionally taking pot shots with their bows and arrows, more for their own entertainment than to actually stop her.

But it was all a ruse, a trap by Zeela's forethought. What many didn't know, even to those in Suran, was that hidden along the westen shore of the Nabia River was a Daedric shrine to Molag Bal. Its entrance was pressed into a small cliff face, only accessible if one followed the shoreline. The guards unwittingly stumbled right into a throng of Molag Bal worshipers, none of whom were pleased to see each other.

Zeela was easily able to escape as the guards fought the worshipers in her wake. She cut a new path home to Balmora, initially continuing north until she reached Lake Nabia. From there she spent a few days in the wilderness of the Molag Amur, hunting nix-hounds for food and avoiding as many cliff racers as possible, though she did make a mention that there seemed to be less of the winged devils flying around than usual. Nevertheless she was thoroughly drained when she finally made her way back to the city and the South Wall Cornerclub. She was met by the shock and elation of all the thieves inside and quickly brought inside to be fed and washed. Sugar-Lips even ordered Hui to fix up a quick potion for stamina, which would prove to be his and her first meeting.

"So imagine how _I_ felt," Zeela continued, "when after all this time, escaping from guards trying to kill me and surviving for days in the wilderness, I come back home only to find out you've run off drunk and gotten yourself kidnapped! You couldn't have waited a little longer to throw your life away, could you? Unbelievable!" Zeela had been gulping down her wine throughout her entire story, easily drinking more than the other two combined. It was finally beginning to go to her head. Knowing she didn't really mean what she said was the only thing keeping Zayden from getting upset in return.

"Yes," said Zayden, the pain within him returning and keeping him from speaking too loudly. "And perhaps I will _schedule_ my next capture, for _your_ convenience?"

Zeela took another large gulp. "Y-Your jussst lucky I love you enough to come rescue you, after your promise to me. That is what you want, right? T-To marry me? _Claim me_ with your _seed?!_" The two men shared a worried glance between them, both of them unsure whether to do something or not. "I'll definitely need to go dark after the debacle we had in Vivec! But I'll tell you what, Zayden! You had better pray to your gods you _don't_ get cured! Because if you do, I'm making good on your promise, and I'm going to fuck you until an inch of your afterlife, just for all the trouble you put us through! Isn't that right, lizard!?"

Hui averted his eyes to the ground and said nothing. Zeela pushed and prodded his shoulder for an answer but to no avail. Thankfully the wine was now gone, giving Zayden the perfect moment to end this. He asked Zeela to go get more wine and as she stood and began to leave he whispered different orders for Hui. "Put her to bed! Make sure she sobers up!"

Hui tentatively agreed, cautiously urging Zeela back out of the caverns. Zayden gulped down the last of his wine and fell back into his bed, falling asleep almost immediately. Zayden suffered from a nightmare, one that harkened back to the images he had upon the prison boat years ago: blood red skies and a monster killing him by sinking his claws into him. But the monster was visible this time. His round golden mask was clear. The monster called him "brother."

Zayden awoke to Uupse once more. She bore more medicine and food, more fresh bandages, and new wonderful news. She claimed Master Divayth had finally devised a potion he believed will cure Zayden of his Corprus. He said he would come down into the Corprusarium personally within the hour with your friends and his wives to administer the cure. Uupse was clearly excited to have her husband come into the cavern.

She left quickly to gather everyone above. Zayden after finishing his meal attempted for the first time to stand up in days. His legs shook from underuse and threatened a few times to collapse but they managed to keep his body upright. He tied his bed sheet around his waist in lue of his clothing that was nowhere in sight.

The first to return were Zeela and Hui, the former looking slightly sheepish from her previous behavior. Hui simply gave a reassuring smile just as the fabled Divayth Fyr himself entered the cavern, followed closely by all four of his daughter-wives. Divayth Fyr proved to be everything and nothing like Zayden could have possibly predicted.

Divayth had the face of an ancient Dunmer man but the eyes and voice of a young one, a voice chipper with youth and carved in stone with certainty. His long white hair was pulled back and tied into a tall ponytail, his long white beard similarly styled. He walked with perfect posture and was clad in a frightening suit of black and red armor, save for the helm. He approached Zayden with casual abandon and, after taking a brief look of him, snatched one of his hands up and shook it with an iron grip.

"Grand of you to stay alive thus far," Divayth commended. "It would have been a shame to have you become another ghoul for Uupse to take care of, considering your pedigree. Speaking of which, I believe this is yours?" Divayth reached for a pouch on his hip and quickly presented the Moon-and-Star ring. A collective gasp came from the four daughters. Hui and Zeela darted their eyes between themselves and Divayth, waiting for an explanation that would never come. Zayden remembered the ring but presently struggled to recall exactly its significance. This annoyed Divayth.

"Don't tell me you don't recall what this is," he then asked.

"Forgive me," Zayden replied, "but I am trying to… Aah!" Zayden suddenly gasped in pain and reached for the side of his head. "It hurts to think! What is going on?"

"Hmm. It seems the spread of the Corprus is worse than we estimated. Your mental faculties are beginning to deteriorate. Bad thing about Corprus; it give you great strength and stamina but you brain degrades until you become like the victims here."

"Now then," he continued nonchalantly, "you have no doubt already been informed of this; it took us a few days but I think we have a cure ready for you. I have it right here with me and we can begin as soon as you wish, BUT! _Just in case_ things don't work out, I thought you would like to be introduced to my daughters, and to Yagrum Bagarn?"

Zayden slowly nodded but then asked "Is there any chance this cure may not work?"

"Well yes, obviously, there is always a _chance_ it might not work, but Yagrum believes it is small. I think it's smaller. _Much_ smaller."

"But if it fails, I'm doomed to become one of those stalkers?"

Divayth Fyr paused and did not address the question at all, instead turning to introduce his daughters. All four of them were dressed as Uupse, in full suits of bonemold armor, save for the helm. "You are all already familiar with Uupse," he began, walking behind her and placing a hand on her shoulder, "caretaker of the Corprusarium." He stepped behind the next in line. "This is Alfe. She's easily the smartest of the four, though all it seems good for is a sharp wit and being a pain in my ass." Alfe gave a smug yet confident grin. "_This_ is Delte. She keeps the tower, the accounts, and everything else orderly and running like a Dwemer centurion. And lastly is Beyte, the sweetest of all. A wonderful cook and a beautiful singing voice. Eager to please and _be_ pleased."

The four gave Zayden, then Hui and Zeela, a bow and a greeting of their own. Divayth gave an amused chuckle and continued. "Not bad for something grown from jars, I'd say. Each of them a side benefit to my research into the Corprus disease, made of my own flesh. Now they're all wonderful paramours of mine and of good comfort to me in my very, very old age."

"J-Jars?" Zayden stumbled. "Forgive me, Master Divayth, but how-?"

"Because I had the _ability_," was his matter-of-fact answer. "And spare me the indignation. We haven't the time, you're sick, and I have your cure. Unwise to bite the hand that feeds you. Now follow me. I promised Yagrum Bagarn that I would show you to him. Everyone, this way."

Divayth promptly left the cavern and made for a long, slender tunnel that gradually arched downward. Hui draped one of Zayden's arms over his shoulder and helped him walk, Zeela keeping very close behind, leaving the four daughters of Divayth Fyr to cover the back. Uupse grabbed a guar skin drum and mallet from beneath the bed and began to beat it as they walked, a strike every two seconds.

The tunnel descended downward for a hundred feet before ending at a metal door, one that Divayth opened with a wave of his hand. He said that this section was for the most advanced cases of Corprus but so long as the drum kept beating everyone would be safe. The door swung open and an even thicker cloud billowed out, the air smelling thick, humid, and stale. The three honored guests instinctively held their breaths but were quickly told it was not necessary.

All the Corprus victims in this part of the Corprusarium were the giant, bloated kind that tore up Zayden's back. They shuffled with thudding heavy footfalls, some with arms and limbs so bloated that they dragged uselessly on the ground. They look on at the company as they passed, their eyes empty and hopeless. The cavern continued on and on until its very end, where Zayden and the others became aware of the sound of humming and the beat of a second drum machine.

Around another bend was the final cavern, in its center a roaring fire that filled the room with light. To the left, built atop a low wooden platform looked to be a simple home and kitchen arrangement, complete with cooking stove, pantries of food and water, a squat table with utensils, but oddly no bed. Against the back wall was a row of larger machines made of the same orange metal from before, each unit studded with buttons, levers, and quartz crystal interface. Off to the right, behind some chest high paper partitions, was a horseshoe of desks with a man sitting at one of them, his back turned.

Even from a distance one could easily see his pale necrotic skin and the massive bloating underneath. It was to such an extent that he no longer appeared to have a neck and had a stomach that extended on each side past his shoulders. At the sound of the approaching company he turned to reveal his full but graying beard, bald head, pointed elven ears, rotten teeth, and eyes that had nearly become covered over from excessive skin.

"Greetings, old friend," said Divayth to the man. "The man you wished to see is here. His cure was completed last evening and we can begin once you've been satisfied."

"Very well," said the bloated man back. "I have the blood analyzer up and running already. Let me have a look, then." His voice gurgled like his lungs were filled with water, the gelatinous flesh beneath his chin shaking with every word. These aspects and all others combined made Zayden nauseous to look upon this thing, this victim of the very disease he himself had. He glanced to Zeela and Hui and saw they were equally disturbed by the sight.

Their shock would come to a head, though, when the man removed himself from behind his desk. He did not stand up at all, merely sliding to the right with a quick rhythm of metallic clanks. Only when he stepped out completely did he reveal that the lower half below of his body beneath his bean bag chair of a stomach had been completely replaced with a mechanical set of legs. From the waist down the man was placed in a wide, shallow bowl of orange metal and four spider-like legs sat beneath it. A small engine behind the man's back would belch an occasional cloud of steam whenever a leg moved.

The man skittered over to Zayden and once within a few feet's distance stretched his legs upward to put himself at eye level. He leaned in closer to get a better look and it took Zayden and the others much of their strength from gagging at the man's horrendous stench.

"Greetings," said the mechanical man to Zayden. "I am Yagrum Bagarn. Master Crafter in former service to Lord Kagrenac, and last living Dwemer."

Had it been any other person to make such a claim of themself Zayden would have dismissed it outright. He would have declared it the final absurdity he was willing to put up with that day and made his escape. But as Zayden bared to look at the abomination before him he began to realize that looking past the deformities Yagrum was indeed different from any other race of elf he had known. The name Kagrenac rang familiar to Zayden is the deepest corner of his mind.

"D-Dwarf?" Zayden gasped back. "You are a dwarf?"

"I _prefer_ 'Dwemer.' My people were not so different in height from that of men and mer today. But yes, I am who I say I am. The last of my kind in Mundus, as I am aware. And it is here within this cavern, for thousands of years, I have been kept, cursed with Corprus. My master, Divayth Fyr, as well as Uupse, have been my few, very good friends in my doomed existence here.

But you, Imperial." Yagrum reached for Zayden's hand but he pulled it away, revealing Moon-and-Star on his finger. Yagrum's eyes widened slightly upon seeing them. "So it is true, then. Divayth made no exaggeration … Then we should begin at once! Administer the cure!"

"Wait!" Zayden pleaded. "You seem to know much about me, much you and others refuse to tell! But who are _you_, creature? How can I trust you are who you say!? 'Dwemer.' All disappeared as long ago as you claim to live. How can this be!?"

"When my people disappeared our finest crafters were working on our people's greatest accomplishment: a creation of a brass God, Numidium! We would have used it to retake Morrowind from the Chimer and spit in the face of all Gods and their influence. Aedra, Daedra, all would be rejected. I worked on the project to create Numidium and we were close to completion. So _very_ close. But when the time for activation came close, I was away in an outer dimension so I could not witness the event.

Perhaps this was just as fortunate, for when I returned to Mundus I found all my people had vanished, ashen piles sitting where they had previously stood. I searched across all Tamriel for my people and found only their empty cities, their running machines, and lost memories. When my travels brought me back to Vvardenfell I was attacked by one of the same ghouls I take residence with. I was infected with Corprus and went mad. But Master Divayth took me into his Corprusarium and was able to cure me of my dementia, but not my disease. Countless times he has tried, curing few others along the way, but for me all attempts have been unsuccessful. And so this body and these caverns remain my prison. But I remain ever grateful for my care."

Zayden presented the ring closer to Yagrum. "What do you know of this ring, then?" Zayden asked. "Divayth and his daughters seem to think of it highly, as do you, yet none have said why. Tell me, Dwemer. What is this thing?"

"You mean you are unaware?!" Yagrum turned with baffled expression to Divayth and his daughters. "How could he not be aware!?"

"It's the disease, obviously," Divayth answered. "I think he has the answer in his memories but the disease is quickly deteriorating his mind. Until we give him the cure he will not be able to remember."

"Then that settles it! Give it to him, fool!"

"I delayed this long at your request, you ungrateful bastard. But fine, we'll do it now. Hui, Zeela, please keep him still." Divayth reached for the same pouch and retrieved a small vial. "Drink every last drop of this, Zayden. If you don't it may not work and it could be days to make another. And by then you'll be too deformed to be anything more than another resident of the Corprusarium."

Zayden forced his body to stand still but his mind was screaming at him to run. Divayth approached, tilted Zayden's head back and poured the thick liquid down Zayden's throat. With one strong gulp it all taken in. And for a moment nothing more happened. A tense, silent minute passed before anyone dared do anything.

"Do you feel any different?" Divayth asked Zayden.

"The pain of my body… is vanishing," he answered. "My mind is becoming less clouded and thinking hurts less…" Divayth motioned to Yagrum and he skittered back to his desks, returning with a different vial, one outfitted with a needle on one end and a plunger on the other.

"We need to extract a new sample of your blood," Yagrum explained. "It will be tested and analyzed to see if the cure was effective." Zayden had no choice but to remain still as a blood sample was taken and brought over to the row of machines against the back wall, the company following close behind. The machines were activated with the pull of a large lever, the gears and metal within clanging together and coming to life. The blood was injected into a small opening and for a few minutes the device hummed and groaned as it examined the sample. Then it suddenly stopped and the quartz crystals began to light up and beep a code of blinks that lasted for another full minute. When the code stopped Yagrum turned back to the company, Divayth in particular, and gave the biggest grim his deformed face could muster.

"Type 4 reaction!" he declared. "All negative effects of the disease have been expunged and all positive remain!"

Divayth Fyr exploded in elation. "Ah-ha!" he cheered. "Take _that_, Therana, you crazed bitch! She thinks herself the most powerful of the Telvanni, but not even _she_ will be able to claim curing the Nerevarine! May she rot in her madness! Ah-ha ha ha!" While the reaction of Divayth's daughters and Yagrum were of similar glee, Zeela and Hui were quickly overcome with a look of utter perplexity.

"What did you just call Zayden?" Zeela asked the wizard in disbelief. "Did you just call him 'Nerevarine?'"

"Wha- Oh, damnit," Divayth cursed. "I guess I should have explained that a bit better, eh? Well, what's done is done. Yes, Zayden is-"

"Nerevarine!" Zayden suddenly shouted. "The ring!" Zayden ripped his arms free from Zeela and Hui's grip with surprising strength. "I can remember now! The ring; 'One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star.' I took it from the cavern and it slipped onto my finger. I witnessed a lifetime in my sleep, the lifetime of another. Indoril! I witnessed the life of Indoril Nerevar through his own eyes. I was him! He is me! And this ring proves it!" Zayden collapsed to his knees in crippling shock, Zeela following quickly to comfort him.

"The fulfillment of the Third Trial," Divayth calmly stated. "'In caverns dark Azura's eye sees, and makes to shine the moon and star.' The Moon-and-Star ring, worn by anyone other than Indoril himself or his incarnation, would be killed. You wear the ring and live, Zayden. And you survived the Corprus cure, a sign of the Second Trial's completion." When he was met with more confused stares by the three, Divayth began to recite all seven of the trials.

_On a certain day to uncertain parents_

_Incarnate moon and star reborn_

_Neither Blight nor age can harm him_

_The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies_

_In cavern dark Azura's eye sees_

_And makes to shine moon and star_

_A stranger's voice unites the Houses_

_Three Halls call him Hortator_

_A stranger's voice unites the Velothi_

_Four tribes call him Nerevarine_

_He honors blood of the tribe unmourned_

_He eats their sin, and is reborn_

_His mercy frees the cursed false gods,_

_Binds the broken, redeems the mad_

"Such is the Nerevarine Prophecy," Divayth concluded. "All other hopefuls failed in death, some coming so far as to fall at the grip of the Moon-and-Star ring. All but you. How very interesting..."

"Interesting?!" Zeela shot back, rising to her feet and confronting Divayth. "Is that all you can say of this?! Have you no concept what this entails? W-What this means he is destined to do?!"

"Young lady, I have been alive since before the Dunmer people _existed_. I was born Chimer and _became_ Dunmer, our people cursed for the actions of the Tribunal. I know _all too well_ what this man is meant to do. Do not think me so ignorant as to not know what this means for Morrowind as well, or Tamriel! Clearly this means much to you, but for me _personally_ this matters very little. Whatever the outcome I will still be a Telvanni wizard, the most powerful of them all, and I can weather the Tribunal's continuance or downfall regardless."

"Downfall?" Zayden repeated, forcing himself back onto his feet. "Is this what I am meant to do? Defeat the Tribunal? For what reason?"

"Besides destiny? Besides the prophecy of the Daedric goddess Azura? That I can not answer. That, I think, is something you must figure out for yourself. Perhaps with a guide."

Another memory flashed within Zayden. "Nibani Maesa," he spoke. "It was a name said within the same vision. It said she would help me."

Divayth seemed to immediately recognize the name. "An Ashlander wise woman," Divayth explained. "Of Urshilaku Camp and the Nerevarine Cult. Yes, I can see how she would be able to help you. After your stay here, of course."

"Stay?" Zayden repeated.

"Of course! You might have been cured but your skin is still necrotic and damaged. You and your companions will continue to be honored guests in Tel Fyr until such a time that I have deemed you healthy, _Nerevarine_. You will have access to all of the tower and Corprusarium, my lovely Beyte will be happy to serve you your meals, and you will have access to my libraries and all the knowledge I've collected.

Also, man and elf, you two are thieves, yes?" The two slowly nodded. "Wonderful! I _love_ thieves! They make for great sport. My home is free to the both of you for plunder. I invite you to take as much as you want. But if I catch you, I _will_ kill you, Nerevarine or not. That should keep you two entertained for your duration… Now, Argonian!" Divayth turned his attention to Hui, catching him off guard. "You strike me a mage of the guild, yes?" Hui nodded as well, briefly explaining his work in Black Marsh. "I detest the Mages Guild, personally. Too many rules, too many 'ethics' that get in the way of real research! But I won't hold it against you. You seem to have some skill and I can teach you so much more than your pathetic guild can. With your master's permission, I can take you on for a brief apprenticeship."

"Hui is not my slave," Zayden corrected. "Neither is he Zeela's."

"Oh? I just sort of assumed. Fine then. Hui, do you accept?" To Zayden and Zeela's slight surprise Hui became quickly, obviously excited at the proposition. He nodded emphatically. "Very good, then. You will spend your days with me then, for as long as I request of you. In fact, come with me as we leave the Corprusarium."

Divayth returned his attention to Zayden and Zeela. "And before I forget, you two. Uupse overheard the elf's desire to 'fuck you to within an inch of your afterlife,' Imperial." Uupse gave protest toward her father but he continued as if he didn't hear her. Zeela kept her eyes firmly on her feet. "Corprus is usually spread through the exchanging of fluids, as you know. We actually have never had a case of a cured patient directly sharing fluids with another healthy person. It would be interesting to record the results. If you intend to carry such action out, here and now would be ideal, seeing as I'm going to keep you within Tel Fyr regardless. And if she becomes infected, we can start making a cure immediately. Not that I think it will come to that, but still.

Well, if we are all settled here, I want to torture my new apprentice. Ha ha!" Divayth motioned to Hui and without anyone else's concern began to lead him back out of the Dwemer's cavern. Hui only had a brief moment to say goodbye to everyone before being hounded by Divayth to follow close. Alfe, Betye, and Delte followed next, leaving Zayden and Zeela with Uupse. Yagrum was quick to return to his previous work, promising that he would always be available to talk.

And for a moment Zeela and Zayden were alone to themselves and left to ponder the final thing said to them by Divayth Fyr. They looked to each other, each of them thinking the same thing, but for a long moment no one spoke. But finally Zayden was the one to ask the obvious. "Did Divayth Fyr just suggest that we… _consummate_? For research purposes?" He received no response. "Zeela?"

Zeela had retreated a few steps back from Zayden and her demeanor had radically changed. When Zayden took a step toward her she took a step back, as if she was now too afraid to be near him. Zayden asked what was wrong and at first she refused to say, keeping her gaze on the ground. But Zayden asked again and again until finally she lifted her eyes to him and they showed great unease.

"What is wrong?" asked Zayden once more. "Answer me, please!"

"The days… They become stranger and stranger…" Her voice quivered. "I feel like everything I've known- known about _you_\- has been a lie… All this time, y-you've been… Nerevarine! One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star proves it! You were never Zayden. You were Indoril Incarnate! Savior of my people! Of Morrowind!"

"Z-Zeela…" Zayden inched forward toward Zeela with slow measured steps. She kept her distance with each step. "I-I'm just as perplexed by all of this, believe me! I'm having trouble taking this all in myself. I want to not believe it. After our time apart, I want nothing more than to fulfil my promise to you. To escape and start anew in a place where no one knows our name. Start a family and get fat, just as you wanted." This managed a smirk out of the corner of Zeela's mouth.

"But these new revelations can not be ignored," Zayden continued. "If everything we have been told, if everything we have seen with our own eyes is to be believed…" Zayden looked over his right shoulder to the Dwemer, squatting in front of a desk, busy tinkering with a tiny machine. Last of his kind, eras old… "Can we afford to ignore it all? Turn our back to it?" He took a step forward, she another back. "I can only begin to understand how you're feeling… We are here, in Tel Fyr, until Master Divayth has deemed me truly cured. If I can not close the gap between us, I can only give you the space you need until you close it yourself. But I am going to make sense of this all. Learn what I can, through whatever means available, until I truly know what I must do… But I could use your support."

Reservedly Zeela finally stepped forward and allowed Zayden to place his hand over hers. He could feel just how stiff with uncertainty she had become, her eyes still remaining fixed upon the ground. He could tell this new revelation was hitting her harder than it was himself. In fact the feeling had yet to truly come. Perhaps, he thought, in the days ahead things would come into picture fully.

-o0o-

The first thing Zayden noticed upon finally leaving the Corprusarium and ascending upwards was the construction of the tower itself. It quickly became apparent upon entering the first winding corridor that there was no lumber, stone, or metal to speak of. It was all, as Divayth Fyr would later explain, grown of a single mushroom plant, its rate and direction of growth greatly increased and altered by magic. Tel Fyr itself measured over two hundred feet tall from base to tip with several towers, with a few ground level and cellar level rooms grown.

The interior was lit with either candles and torches or large crystals embedded in the walls and ceilings that illuminated a purple glow. Divayth led the group up three levels and down a divergent hallway before suddenly stopping and asking the guests to gather close. "Your quarters will be on the third level," he stated, pointing up. Above everyone was a circular opening in the ceiling that revealed a shaft that connected to at least five levels above them. There were no stairs or ladders to speak of leading to these levels. Before anyone could ask how they were to ascend Divayth was already casting a spell of levitation beneath everyone's feet and the entire group of eight began slowly rising.

The quarters themselves were spacious and well equip with a large bed, full kitchen and cooking amenities, small bookshelves with a curated selection, and a lounge area of large soft cushions arranged in a circle around a central, small fire pit. Across the shaft on the opposite side of the tower was a room of similar arrangement but smaller and clearly intended for a single occupant. It became obvious to the three to whom each room was intended.

Divayth reiterated as the three explored their temporary homes that Beyte would serve breakfasts and lunches, adding that dinners would be served in the main dining hall with Divayth himself and his daughters. Uupse would come in mornings and evenings to tend to Zayden's wounds and his necrotic skin. He the readdressed Hui and ordered him to follow him back to his study, where his training would begin.

Hui, clearly excited to begin, said his goodbyes to his friends and left with Divayth back down the tower shaft. Uupse and Alfe left soon after while Beyte remained and began to prepare a meal for the couple. Just before she began she waved a hand toward the wall and the surface split to create a window to the cool morning air, a quick sea breeze wafting through. Zeela became momentarily fascinated by the ingredients used, insisting to Zayden they were rare delicacies. All looked alien to Zayden but their taste once finished was unmistakably wonderful.

The meal acted as a momentary distraction for Zeela, the delicious food putting a smile on her face. But once the meal had finished, Beyte cleaned up and descended the tower shaft, Zeela and Zayden were alone in the same room once again, and her anxiety swelled back up. Instead of attempting to bridge the divide, Zayden chose instead to give her her space. He started a fire in the organic chimney pod on the opposite side of the room. He then grabbed a small end table and two chairs and set them up in front of the flames. He poured two glasses of Cyrodillic brandy, took a seat, and let Zeela join him whenever she was ready.

Zeela's glass remained full when Uupse came by in the evening to give Zayden a short healing session. After Zayden's treatment was finished Uupse led the two down to Tel Fyr's main dining hall. A long table held host to a feast of even more alien delicacies. Divayth and his daughters and Hui were already seated and waiting to begin. Again the meal succeeded in distracting Zeela into better spirits, but he intentionally sat with Hui between herself and Zayden. And Hui in particular was easily in the highest spirits of the three honored guests. He could hardly stop himself from detailing to his friends some of the things he learned just today. He could have easily gone on indefinitely were it not for Divayth's intervention. Divayth even seemed pleased with himself at his new apprentice's enthusiasm.

After the feast everyone filed into an adjacent smoking lounge where more drinks were served. Divayth's daughters at one point in the evening began to perform songs for everyone with Beyte singing, Uupse playing a guar skin drum and Alfe playing the lute. They played a selection of old songs of the Ashlanders as well as some newer fair. To the other two guest's surprise Zeela joined briefly to sing a song of her own, revealing in her own words a "modest talent for singing." Hui performed his own feat of singing but much of its complexities were lost to the others, it being the unique throat singing only his race of people were capable of.

Such was the average tenor of the day-to-day for the man and elf for their stay within Tel Fyr. Dinners downstairs were not an every day event so trice a day Beyte would arrive in the guest quarters to serve meals and Uupse came in the morning and evening for three more days until Zayden's skin was fully healed. Hui spent all his days elsewhere in Tel Fyr with Divayth, leaving Zayden and Zeela with hours alone. Every day Zayden would attempt to invite Zeela closer but the effort of bringing her back was a slow one.

After a few unsuccessful days Zayden eventually stopped trying, though it pained him to do so. He returned his thoughts to the mysterious man within the Corprusarium and for one day, at Zayden's request, he and Divayth ventured back below ground to meet with Yagrum Bagarn. By now Zayden had accustomed himself to the idea he was speaking to a real Dwemer, last of his nearly extinct race. In the dark of his cavern home they spoke at length about the Dwemer and their accomplishments, Yagrum's personal work and how it related with the Nerevarine prophecy.

Zayden told Yagrum Bagarn of his visions after putting on Moon-and-Star and the Dwemer seemed to understand instantly. What he saw was the Heart of Lorkhan, the very thing his people attempted to harness the power from to activate Numidium. When his people disappeared Numidium was destroyed, the heart remaining deep within the core of Red Mountain. It was rediscovered by Indoril Nerevar and Voryn Dagoth. Nerevar tasked Voryn to keep the Heart safe as he returned to Vivec, Sotha Sil, and Almalexia for further council. When the four returned together Voryn had broken his word, harnessed the power of the heart for himself and became Dagoth Ur, the man with the golden mask.

From there accounts differ, dependent upon who is asked. Devotes of the Tribunal Temple claim that Nerevar and Dagoth Ur exchanged blows beneath Red Mountain and Nerevar fell. Sotha Sil, Vivec, and Almalexia, seeing the threat Dagoth Ur posed if left unchecked, harness the power of the Heart for themselves and constructed the Ghost Gate to contain him. In doing so the three became demigods like Dagoth Ur and the Tribunal religion formed around them.

Accounts of the Nerevarine Cult, of whom the Ashlander tribes belong, speak a different story. They claim the Tribunal killed Nerevar themselves, seeing _him_ as a threat to great power. The power of the Heart was too great for them to resist, as it was with Voryn. They became as corrupted as he and only the incarnate of Indoril would correct this injustice.

In either event it was the harnessing of the power of the heart that was seen, by Azura, as another type of betrayal. It was for this that the golden-skinned Chimer were cursed to become the gray-skinned Dunmer, a mark that they would carry forever, Nerevarine prophecy completed or not.

Zayden asked if he knew what could be done, given the Nerevarine Cult's account be true. The Dwemer knew that only the tools that helped build Numidium, that harnessed the power of the Heart, could be used to contain it. But he confessed he no longer knows where such tools are. They would have most likely been destroyed over the centuries if not come into the possession of Dagoth Ur himself. But he remained optimistic that a solution could be found within those means.

Zayden returned to Zeela with a greater understanding of what had to be done. To his surprise, upon returning, Zeela immediately threw herself into his arms and embraced him tightly. She told him that in spite of her fear of what Zayden had become, spending time away from him felt worse. It finally took a kind word from Beyte for Zeela to realize what was more important to her. So Zeela decided that she would rather be afraid and by her husband's side than alone.

The next morning, at breakfast, Uupse for one final examination declared Zayden's wounds fully healed. The next evening Divayth invited his guests to another dinner feast where he gave even better news. After giving the man and elf a brief and awkward talking to about _not_ "exchanging fluids" as he had suggested, he rendered the act now unnecessary for his research. Divayth deemed everyone was healthy and would be allowed, at their earliest convenience, to return home in two days. Preparations would be made for that day along with the inclusion of some parting gifts.

Before the dinner was over, though, Divayth asked of the three an odd question. "Where, upon leaving, would you desire to return to?"

The answer seemed obvious to everyone. "Balmora," Zayden replied. "I think we all need time to reunite with friends before we continue onto my next task. The Fourth Trial: become Hortator of the three Great Houses."

Divayth Fyr gave an amused groan. "_Another _reason to become Telvanni: a better chance of staying out of House politics. Yes, other high members of House Telvanni indulge themselves in such frivolous things, probably out of necessity. But I chose a long time ago to stand clear of such nonsense. Let the dogs bark amongst themselves and focus yourself on real work, I say. I do not envy you, Nerevarine, going into such a den."

Zayden was still getting used to being called "Nerevarine." It still felt as alien as his current surroundings. Zayden worked through his uneasiness by forcing a chuckle at Divayth's clear disdain of politics. "I haven't much love for politicians either," Zayden stated, "but how difficult can they really be? From what I have read in your library they seem the easily persuaded sort, particularly with coin?"

Divayth nodded and agreed. "At any rate, it seems appropriate the fourth and fifth trial be in the order that they are. Temple ordinators guard Vivec City, where all the Great House cantons and their leaders usually are. Had you done the reverse and entered the city claiming the title of 'Nerevarine' from the Ashlanders, no doubt the ordinators would attempt to kill you on sight, deeming your speech blasphemy."

"What _is_ a 'Hortator?' Zayden asked. "What does it mean to become a hortator of a Great House?"

"Not much, in honesty," Divayth bluntly stated. He quickly explained when Zayden looked positively perplexed by the response. "Any of the Great Houses can elect a champion, a 'hortator' to accomplish a task. They have limited influence in House affairs whilst named Hortator, varying on severity of task, and the task itself can be great or small. A mercenary can be named Hortator to lead and protect a caravan from thievery. A politician can be named to coerce and bride a village into adopting Temple religion. A fool can be named Hortator to count tally the cliff racers in Vvardenfell! It's a mere title, nothing more, and most can be persuaded to give out the title with a bit of gold."

Divayth seemed amused at this but the observation made uneasy the three Zayden was beginning to realize just what new arena he was entering. This was no longer the realm of criminal organizations and crooked 'peace keeping.' This was belief and religion, deep rooted and unbending, with Zayden in the center of it all. His actions and their outcomes could effect countless generations into the future. Zayden was no longer acting as merely Blackcap of the Thieves Guild. He would now be a hero, a thing for the ages to speak of.

"It seems," said Zayden, turning his attention to Zeela, "that our slide back into domesticity will have to wait. The world demands more of me, and the path forward will be more dangerous than anything either of us has ever faced…"

"Let the dangers come," Zeela retorted, lifting her glass of wine toward the ceiling. "You will not face them alone."

"Aye," agreed Hui, lifting his glass as well.

Zayden could not help but smile. Fear still permeated his heart but now he felt a little better.

-o0o-

When the dinner ended Divayth approached his guest and asked of them to surrender all their possessions, promising that he would repair and improve what he could, they being part of his parting gifts for their return home. Zayden and Zeela agreed and surrendered their sneaking suits, weapons, and all other items, Hui surrendering his robe and mage supplies. They were then sent back to their quarters and another peaceful yet suspenseful day passed. None of the three were able to fully sleep, each of them longing in their own ways to return to familiar surroundings and familiar friends.

Divayth Fyr, accompanied by all four of his daughter-wives, ascended the guest tower to wake the three personally. Each of the daughters held in their hands the personal effects of Zayden, Zeela, and Hui. Divayth detailed all that he did to each item as they were returned to their owners.

"For Hui," he began, "who has been an eager learner in our short time together, I give back to you your robe, enchanted in protection from elemental destruction magic. Within your bag you will find finer alchemy apparatuses as well as a small, personally curated collection of texts for your future study and learning, shrunk down for easier travel. You have a clear passion for learning, Argonian, one the Mages Guild will regret rejecting." Hui thanked Divayth profusely as he received his gifts.

"For the two thieves, Zeela and Zayden… _Your_ suit and cloak, Zayden, has been mended and repaired. _Both_ cloaks have been enchanted with a spell of chameleon, one that activates in shadow. The darker it is, the ever more hard you are to see. Your boots will let you sneak like Khajiit paws upon sand, your armors strengthened to steel whilst remaining as flexible as cloth. Please, dawn them now. I have one more personal gift for each of you." The two happily put back on their suits and they seemed to fit better than before, like they were a second skin. All cloth had been perfectly cleaned and freshly waxed, the leather cleaned and polished to a dull shine, the weapons and their belts similarly attended to.

"When one has lived as long as I," Divayth Fyr continued, "and you explore into the deeper mysteries of magic, you tend to pick up a few mementos along the way. I've collected over the millenia a few artifacts of the Gods themselves, tools and items of their own creation. I have one for each of you to leave with… Hui!"

Hui was again the first to step forward and receive his gift. Another of the daughters presented a tall staff of black ebony metal, a large emerald set into the oblong hole in the staff's head. Hui seemed to recognize what it was immediately. "A wizard's staff," he stated. "All peoples upon reaching wizard rank in the Mages Guild receive one. I-I can not accept this. I am not of the guild anymore."

"Take it," Divayth insisted, "as a mockery against them. Look closer at the gem, lizard." Hui and the others took a second look and saw that in the face of the gem was carved the insignia of House Telvanni. This act would no doubt be taken as a debasement of the Mages Guild. Hui found it hilarious and quickly accepted the staff with thanks.

Zeela was called forward next and another daughter took the first's place and presented a new artifact. It had the handle of a knife but when a button was pressed near the head its 'blade' extended out from within; several tiny, expertly crafted pins and needles, twisting and bending like the teeth of a comb. Zeela, like Hui, seemed to know what this thing was right away, Zayden as well. "The Skeleton Key?" Zeela asked, unbelieving.

"Indeed," said Divayth Fyr. "A key to open any and all things, created by Nocturnal. I had had this in my own possession since the Second Era, given to me by Sotha Sil himself. The details as to why and how this happened are not important. What is even less important is that up until very recently it was taken from me by your Gentleman Jim Stacey, Master Thief of your Thieves Guild. Good sport, that one. Didn't realize I had lost the thing for a few months after. But I reclaimed it. And now I pass it on to you, she-elf. I sense an interesting future for you in particular, one apart from your husband. You will have need of this artifact, I am certain."

Divayth's last message sent an uneasy feeling through Zeela but she accepted the gift nonetheless. Finally Zayden stepped forward. "I struggled to think of what to give you, Nerevarine," Divayth said. "What _can_ one give after already giving a second chance at life, curing them of a nearly incurable disease? And to the Nerevarine at that… In the end, I thought a speedy return home would be gift enough, for you and your company.

I sent Alfe back to Balmora Mages Guild once more this morning to announce of the Nerevarine's arrival." The daughter in question approached Zayden with a scroll in her hand. "When you are all ready, this scroll will transport you to Balmora in the blink of an eye. Be warned: the Steward of the branch, Ranis Athrys, apparently had a distain for Telvanni. Treated my daughter not too hospitably, but took to news of the Nerevarine well.

By the time you leave the premises my final gift to you three will be waiting outside: a trio of pack guar of the finest breed, saddled and carrying equipment and food to last you at least a month in the wilderness. After the Fourth Trial comes the Fifth, becoming Ashkhan of the four great Ashlander tribes. A long journey through the Grazelands and beyond awaits. The beasts will be invaluable."

"I believe we are ready now," said Zayden. "Thank you, Master Divayth, for everything. I promise to return to you someday, with a great gift of my own, and stories to tell."

"I certainly hope so." Divayth gave Zayden, Zeela, and Hui a final hand shake and his four daughters gave farewell kisses. When all were ready the three huddled close together, Zayden held the scroll out in front of them, broke its seal, and snapped it open. In an instant they traveled hundreds of miles and returned, at long last, home to Balmora.


	11. Detour to Vivec

Chapter 11: Detour to Vivec

The flash of light from the recall spell blinded Zayden, Zeela, and Hui momentarily. When their sight returned they found themselves in a small annex room of the Balmora Mages Guild main hall, located below ground level. The annex room had a stone semi-circle tucked away in a corner, a platform where all incoming and outgoing transportees sood or appeared. A desk was situated in the opposite corner where an orange Khajiit woman and a brunette Breton woman were sitting. The three's arrival brought the two to their feet, the latter asking if they were the ones expected from Tel Fyr. Zayden confirmed and the Breton quickly left and brought someone new back with her.

The new arrival, now followed by a throng of curious guild members, was a young and stern faced Dunmer woman, clad in blue robe. She spoke with the same stiffness her visage portrayed, introducing herself as Ranis Athrys, head of the Balmora Mages Guild. She greeted each person individually but referred to Zayden by "Nerevarine," an act that rose murmurs from the growing onlookers behind her.

"It is only professional courtesy," she continued, "that I allow your passage through my guild building. I have associates outside preparing an area for your mounts." One could tell it pained her to act so helpfully to anyone friendly with the Telvanni. "Safe travels, Nerevarine."

Zayden thanked her wordlessly and the three pushed their way through the onlookers into the guild's main hall, a large square room with vaulted ceilings. Each quarter of the room seemed designated to a certain purpose: sleeping bunks, work benches, dining tables, and book shelves. Alchemy equipment and books seemed to cover any available flat surface and even with the crowd of onlookers there were still many who chose instead to focus on their work and pay no attention to the new arrivals. One such person was a Dunmer and the only male in the entire Balmora bureau, who had his nose buried in a book.

Hui's gaze fell upon the Dunmer and he froze in place. Zayden and Zeela stopped and followed the Argonian's eyes to the other man. Zayden knew immediately who this other was; Hui's promissed master, the one that sold him into slavery. Just as Hui was about to take a step forward toward the man Zayden grasped a hand on Hui's shoulder and pulled him back with a solid jerk.

"Don't! It won't be worth it," Zayden whispered into Hui's ear. "Let your success outside the guild be your revenge. Hurting him now in his own den will only end badly." Just then the Dunmer looked up from his text and his gaze locked onto the Argonian's. He recognized him instantly as well, his eyes growing wide and his face becoming ashen. But he did not move, nor did he speak. He sat motionless, petrified of what would occur next. Zayden looked back to his friend and feared he would strike.

But to Zayden's relief Hui merely turned and walked away, leaving the others to catch up. A long gradual corridor led upward to the ground floor and the front entrance of the guild building. Stepping outside into the sounds and smells of the commercial district was like falling into an old bed. Soon Hui forgot why he was angry moments ago. Soon everyone shared a collective, creeping grin upon their faces.

The moment was cut short by the call of another guild member a few yards away. She and a few others were creating a clear perimeter in the street where no one could enter or walk through. "Your mounts should arrive soon, Lord Nerevarine," she shouted. "Please, this way!" Her call already drew the confused glances of passersby. Zayden was already beginning to wonder what _other_ enemies, apart from the obvious, his new titleage would summon.

Zayden and the others needed to wait for only a few minutes more before another blinding flash of a spell came, one that certainly brought passersby to a halt. From the light and sound appeared three guar, their large oblong heads harnessed with leather straps that connected to reins, a roomy saddle upon its back, and stirrups. Connected to each saddle near the tail end were tightly weaved wicker baskets with canvas cloth fastened over them. Inside, upon further inspection, were food provisions, clay jugs of water, bedrolls, and a tent large enough for the three of them, blankets, alchemy and cooking tools, and everything else a traveller of the wilderness could ever desire.

"Bless Fyr," Hui praised. "We will want for nothing with all he has given us."

"Except I have never ridden such a beast," Zayden remarked. Hui seemed to nod his head in admittance that he could not as well.

"Lucky for you two I can teach you," Zeela added. "I learned when I was teenaged. Guar are easy to lead and while not as fast as horses they spook much less easily. They are also omnivores and they'll eat practically anything you feed them." Zeela retrieved a length of rope from her guar, cut it into two sections, and tied at the saddle her guar to Zayden's, then his to Hui's. "Until you get a handle of it I'll have to tow you both."

"The beasts will follow my lead guar," she further stated, finally mounting the creature. Zayden and Hui cautiously did the same and after prodding her guar forward the string began lumbering forward. The Mage Guild members gave one final farewell as the trio slipped into the crowded market street.

Though many people on foot parted to give the guar space to pass, moving forward proved to be a slow process. At slow walking speeds guar sway left and right with each step of their hunched legs and long feet. Planting one's feet in the stirrups is practically necessary to stay on the saddle. As the three inched along Zeela explained to the two men the basics in riding a guar. As she alluded to earlier it turned out to be insultingly easy to lead them and by the time the three managed to exit the market and reach the Odai River Hui and Zayden felt almost confident to ride untethered.

As the beasts crossed the river and headed toward Labor Street a grim remembrance fell over Zayden. He called out to Zeela and asked if they could go to Caius's house before returning to South Wall. She spoke no reply but gave a solemn nod of her head. She turned left and followed the river canal several blocks before turning back east and cutting through the district. When they finally reached Labor Street Caius's house was in sight and close by.

The building was a total loss. The roof collapsed into itself and only the front wall remained standing. The openings where the door and windows were had outlines blackened with soot. As they approached one could still smell the smoke of burning wood. Zayden's knuckles turned pale white as the grip of his reins tightened, his eyes unbroken from the tragic sight before him.

"Those bastards weren't lying," Zayden spoke aloud. "The Blades must have really killed him…" Zayden looked around him and noticed a lone guard on patrol nearby. He waved and motioned him over.

"Yes, Imperial?" the guard asked in a cautious manner. "Is something wrong?"

"This house here," Zayden answered, giving the burnt out structure a gesture of his hand. "Do you know anything about what happened?"

"Why do you ask? Did you know the people living there?"

"Yes I- _People?_ Only one man lived here. Caius Cosades. I heard he was killed in the fire?" The guard gave a nod of his head. "My companions and I had been away from Balmora for the last pair of weeks. We returned today and only just heard the news."

"So you _do_ know of the man that lived there. Were you acquaintances with Caius?"

"She and I, yes," answered Zayden. "Not the Argonian, so much."

"Do you know if he had any enemies? Anyone that might have wished harm upon him?"

_The Blades! The Emperor! The Empire itself!_

Zayden wanted so desperately to scream these things. He wanted to reveal the truth and expose the abuse and corruption that occurred… but he didn't. He couldn't. As much as it pained him Zayden knew his story would not be believed and, worse than that, spreading the truth could bring the Blades back out of the woodwork and after him. Zayden knew he needed to play dumb.

"No, not a one," Zayden replied with a shake of his head. "I knew he had had his problems with addiction, but he was a friend to everyone he knew. I can't think of anyone who would want him dead."

"Hmmm," the guard seemed to agree. "Everyone else we've asked has said very much the same… Very well, Imperial. The fire, if you didn't already know, happened about two weeks ago. It went up like a tinder box in the middle of the night. The building was fully engulfed by the time any effort could be mounted to extinguish the flames. When it was eventually put out there were _four_ bodies found all inside, all burned beyond recognition. The matter is being treated as a murder case, given what you and others have testified, that he lived alone. I am sorry for your friend's loss."

"Thank you…" Zayden's eyes fell slowly back upon the structure. "If I may ask, do you have any leads who might have killed him?"

"Only speculation. We believe the old man was on friendly terms with the Guild of Thieves, so we chiefly suspect the guild's main rival, the Camonna Tong… Say, Imperial. You and your woman look like guild thieves yourselves... And are you not the 'Rat Slayer' from several months back?" Zayden was forced to affirm with a nod while Zeela and Hui chuckled at remembering his old titilage. "So you knew the victim more than you let on! Are you sure he had no enemies of any kind?"

"It is as I said," said Zayden. "Caius was a friend to all who knew him. None of us have any idea who would want him dead…"

"I see… Very well, then. That is all I have to ask. If there is nothing more you wish to say, I will be going." The guard exchanged with the group one last nod before he went on his way. Once he turned a corner and left from sight Zeela urged the guar along once more, traveling the length of Labor Street south to its end.

Everyone felt lighter as the familiar sight of the South Wall Cornerclub came into view. It had only been a several days since they had been away but the time felt much longer. Zeela led the mounts behind the building and tied them off to the lone tree behind it. Before any of them could dismount a figure appeared around a corner of the building running toward them. It was Sugar-Lips and her body language betrayed how relieved she was that everyone had returned.

It was clear to the returning three that it took the Khajiit visible effort to keep professional. "Khajiit is pleased to see everyone return," she said. "Khajiit _should _give Zayden more scars across face for allowing himself to get captured…" Zayden forced a grin but it was hard to tell if that was said in jest or as a real threat.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Zeela objected with a grin of her own. "I would not want my new husband to look _too _ugly, now. Besides, the man has suffered enough recently, I think. Things… Things have changed, Mastermind. We've all learned something, about Zayden, that changes everything."

"Things change here as well. Zayden… There was an accident, at Caius's house. A fire… He did not make it out. There were other bodies in building, guard say he was murdered. None know who or why-"

Zayden shared a solemn look between his friends. "I know who," Zayden declared to Sugar-Lips, "and why. We can not discuss it here. Let's continue inside."

Sugar-Lips agreed and they all headed inside where the man, elf, and Argonian were greeted by the patrons and thieves for their safe return home. The four sat at a table in the cantina and they were served a round of ale before Zayden continued the story. He recalled everything that had happened upon his capture by the Blades: his encounter in the Cavern of the Incarnate, his contraction and curing of the Corprus disease, his time spent in Tel Fyr with Divayth Fyr and the Dwemer, and the reveal of his identity as Nerevarine. As the tale unwove Sugar-Lips seemed more and more in disbelief but spoke no denial of the events because she simply could not. Zayden had two other witnesses to confirm the events and the Moon-and-Star ring as physical proof. The gifts of Divayth Fyr and the three's new guar mounts were mere icing on the sweet roll of a tale.

When all was said and done Sugar-Lips had no choice but to believe all her eyes and ears told her. She mused upon these new outcomes and, naturally, questioned what this new future would hold. She questioned, firstly, what now happens from this point forward. Zayden concluded that after a few day's rest in Balmora he must travel to Vivec City to speak with the three Great Houses to be named Hortator by each, thus fulfilling the Fourth Trial. Sugar-Lips seemed annoyed that her two best thieves were going to leave once more and so soon, but soon enough relented, accepting that things were beyond her control.

Slight relief for Sugar-Lips, though, came when Zeela revealed to Zayden and the rest that she would not be travelling to Vivec. Her recent part in the heist on the Hlaalu bank vault would make returning to the city a death sentence. No change of hair style or new scars upon her face would stop her from being identified and, if not jailed, executed for her crimes. She regrettably would have to remain in Balmora.

The plan was finalized and the four spent the remainder of the evening drinking in celebration of the return home. By the time night came the four were barely able to stand and make their way back to their quarters, Zayden needing Zeela to lean on. Zayden was inches from reaching the handle of his and Hui's door when Zeela suddenly pulled him away and practically tossed him through her own door. That night, finally returned home and she finally recovered from learning Zayden's new identity, Zeela surrendered herself to Zayden and her own lingering desires to consummate her marriage.

Hui the next morning was both pleased for the happy couple and annoyed he had to listen to them the entire night. Zeela made it up to the lizard by promising to buy him premium cigar tobacco when she continued his and Zayden's riding lessons. The three spent much of that day in the less populated streets of Balmora to practice. They began once again tied together to Zeela's lead guar and rode back and forth the length of a single street. When an hour had passed the ties were lifted and for the first time the two men followed Zeela unassisted. Once they felt comfortable with this she then led the two throughout the city, eventually taking them back through the crowded markets where they would have to contend with the crowds.

Zeela was ultimately pleased with the two's progress by that evening, confident they could travel on their own the day after tomorrow. They spent much of the next day preparing for the journey. Everyone reviewed the packs and supplies of the guar and purchased more in the few places they found lacking. By that evening Zayden and Hui felt prepared to venture forth and do what was necessary.

That night a heavy rain came in and continued into the morning. It was a rain heavier than anything Zayden had seen in Balmora before, a storm that flooded all the streets in a few inches of water and turned all the stairwells into waterfalls. Hui had thought ahead the previous day and purchased for himself a wide gondolier's straw hat to keep the rain off his head and shoulders. Zayden had his waxed hooded cloak for protection but he knew that even that, under sustained rain, would eventually soak.

Zeela, Sugar-Lips, and the many other thieves and patrons of South Wall gave Zayden and Hui their farewells before the two set off into the rain-soaked morning. They mounted their guar and waded through rain filled streets west, back over the now raging river, and through the city's south gate. Ahead the road split east and west, presenting a choice in path.

Before they had reached the split, though, Zayden had noticed in his friend a queer change of mood. In spite of the miserable weather Hui had, since they had gone beyond the border of the city, an unwavering grin. Zayden finally decided then to stop and confront this.

"Do Argonians love the rain?" Zayden asked Hui. "Is that why you smile so? Because, otherwise, no sane man _could_ grin in such a torrent."

"That is not why I grin," Hui answered with a chuckle. "It is true, though, that the Saxhleel enjoy the rain. In Black Marsh a rain storm can last over eight days, with this same intensity, without pause. This rain, in fact, is very much like our rainy season. But that is not why I grin. I grin because I think of all that has happened to me in such a short time. Less than a year ago I was a slave with no hope of being freed. Now I have been trained in magic by the great Divayth Fyr and travel the road with the Nerevarine! It sounds so unbelievable when spoken aloud."

"Well release the stars from your eyes for a moment and speak something else," Zayden laughed. "We have two paths ahead. One goes east, one goes west. Both eventually loop back and connect to the road that passes Pelagiad. Either path on these beasts will take us until tomorrow afternoon to reach Vivec. We will have to make camp at least once. No way I'm stepping foot in Pelagiad."

"Understandable," Hui laughed. "... Are we in any time table to reach Vivec?"

"Not really… What do you have in mind, lizard?"

"A scenic route with a… _pleasant_ detour," Hui explained. "It will double our journey time but perhaps you would be interested?"

"You have a devil in your eyes, Hui, and it almost scares me. Just what exactly are you getting at?"

"We go east and follow the roads past the Fields of Kuumu to Suran. I've heard through the thieves in South Wall of a place of 'earthly delights' that the city is famous for. It is guild friendly and some travel from all corners of Vvardenfell to sample its wears. Suran has ferryboats that can take us into Vivec from there."

Hui's proposition was met by Zayden with an air of disbelief. For a long moment the Imperial said nothing and merely stared back, motionless in the rain. This reaction perplexed Hui similarly. "Do you disapprove?" Hui asked at length.

"I can not believe you actually suggested it," said Zayden. "Perhaps your devil is in more than your eye… This is an odd request, Hui, and one that seems quite against your nature. You're not one for such debauchery, and for that matter neither am I. It makes me think you have an ulterior motive…"

"Can a man not desire a few base pleasures?"

"Not _you_, Hui. You have something else in mind and I want to know what. Otherwise I am not moving from this spot."

Hui paused only for another moment before finally relenting. He looked over his shoulder, back at Balmora in the hazy distance, as if the city were eavesdropping the conversation. "I would rather tell you away from here. We take my path for an hour and I will tell you. I promise."

Zayden did not like this new behavior from Hui at all. He was still tempted to remain planted in his spot. But as he looked again into his friend's eyes he noticed that he too would be unwavering in his request. Zayden eventually relented himself, nodded, and told Hui to take the lead. They followed the road east, making a brief cut through a dormant lava foyada before entering into the Ascadian Isles region. They followed the road northeast and eventually connected with the northern coast of Lake Amaya, hugging the shoreline for the rest of the day until evening. The rain did not let up in the slightest for the hour they travelled.

As promised, when the two riders were well along the road and out of any possible earshot, Hui divulged his true intent. "When I was held in Dren Plantation," he began, "in the quarters I was crammed into with over thirty others, there was a woman…" Zayden immediately chuckled. He was already predicting how the rest of the story would go. "She was only eight years old when her family was travelling near the Black Marsh/Morrowind border. They were captured by a bandit group, all the other members of her family killed, and she was later sold off. Her textile skills were the only thing that stopped her from being sold to a brothel.

She was brought to and sold to Dren Plantation and made to weave rugs for the next seven years. I had known her for the last six months she was there. Others said she spoke to no one but for whatever reason she spoke to me… Then one day she came back to the quarters with her fingers wrapped in bandages. She said they were broken but refused to say how or why. Two days later she was sent off to 'a brothel in Suran.' That was the last I saw of her. That was a few months before I made my escape…"

"And that's why you want to go to Suran?" said Zayden. "In the hopes she will be there." Hui nodded. "... And if she _is_ there, what will you do then?" The look in Hui's eyes said it all. "You plan to _steal_ her?"

"Of course I do," Hui stated. "She is too innocent a soul to be sold for such a thing!"

"Because you love her…?" Hui nodded emphatically. "And how do you presume to do this? Does anyone else know you have this in mind?"

"Only you, friend. And I had hoped to do this with your help. You helped free me before-"

"Under _very_ different circumstances! Ahnassi had the money to spare to buy your freedom. You had already escaped from the plantation! _This_ is stealing a slave from right under her owner's nose!"

"Shouldn't be too hard a feat for a member of the Thieves Guild," Hui remarked. Zayden couldn't tell if he was being mocked or Hui was being genuine. In either case he was in no good position to refuse, morally or professionally.

"Besides," Hui continued, "I'm not without a plan. You know of Bittergreen, yes?"

"Of course. Nasty tasting plant that people chew to sober up more quickly."

"It's something most bars and taverns sell. I can use my alchemy skills and brew up a quick potion of invisibility." Zayden still knew very little of any of the forms of magic. The principles behind alchemy were a bit more grounded in basic physical reality, but the idea one could grind a few leaves together and make a potion that can let you fly never ceased to astound him. "It may not be strong, but strong enough to sneak out with her, provided we scout out an exit… What say you, friend?"

The answer was a foregone conclusion, for Hui knew Zayden would never refuse. With that matter settled the two continued on until the gray sky turned black with dusk. The two finally made camp under the wide canopy of a tall mushroom tree. They managed a meger fire and ate some of the food provisions before going to sleep. It continued to pour the entire night and when they woke the next morning it was still raining.

After breakfast Zayden and Hui mounted up and drudged the oppressive rains once more. The road continued east, passing north of the Fields of Kuumu. Hui had remarked that this was apparently a holy site, a place of pilgrimage for members of the Tribunal Temple, though its exact significance was lost to him. Zayden was too soaked to fake interest, the waterproofing wax of his cloak being to fail. But still, in continued spite of the weather, Hui seemed anxious and in high spirits for what was promised ahead. It managed to cause Zayden slight suspicion. He could not shake the feeling that this new, unknown destination could also spell danger.

Many more hours passed until the land finally converged into a peninsula and up ahead they could spot a deep gorge, the Nabai River cutting through it. North of Ules Manor was the bridge that would span the gorge into Suran. Or, rather, the place where the bridge had been. Two guards, clad in similar bonemold armor as the guard in Balmora, stood in the road where one of the bridge posts stood. They hailed the riders over as they approached.

"State your names, travellers," one of the guards demanded. "Where are you headed?"

"I am Zayden and my friend is Hui," Zayden answered. "We wish to enter Suran, but my friend and I's ultimate destination is Vivec City. We intend to stay the night in Suran and take boat to Vivec in the morn. My friend insists we see Suran's 'earthly delights' while we are here."

"I see…" the guard grumbled, seemingly unapproving of the answer.

"Has what I said offended you, sir?" Zayden asked.

"Many people come to Suran for its 'earthly delights,'" the guard spat. "I only wish the city was better known for _other_ things. But I can not prevent you from entering for these reasons. You may enter." He motioned to a small path that led downward into the gorge. "There is a pontoon that will take you and your mounts across the river. One rider and beast at a time."

"I thought there was a bridge that spanned the river. Did it collapse?"

"More like destroyed! It occurred several days ago. Believe it or not, a mad mage blew it up! We think they were escaping from Vivec and were involved in the Hlaalu bank vault robbery."

"The Hlaalu vault was robbed?!" Hui exclaimed, putting on a convincing enough act.

"Yes, and the thieves escaped by boat to this very city. Some of the town guard went after them, tracking them up the river north, but they never returned and were never heard from again! The city guard had been on high alert ever since and that is why I stand here, soaked to the bone, protecting the road."

"Hopefully the rain lets up soon, then," Zayden wished to the guard. "My friend and I will be on our best behavior."

"See to it that you do. Now go, get moving, down the ravine!"

Hui led once more and the two led their guar down a steep, rain slick path to the river where a raft sat bobbing in the rushing river waters. Two thick ropes spanned the length and kept the craft on a single back-and-forth path. Hui rode his guar onto the craft and was taken across the river first, followed thereafter by Zayden, each of them giving the ferryman a few coins.

From there they headed back up the other side and found themselves just outside the northern archway into the city proper. Suran's architecture was like that of Balmora; tan clay buildings. The northern entrance opened up into the town's single, large round market plaza. Shops and stands lined its perimeter but the rains rendered the market very much empty. They quickly found a stable near a silt strider platform and sheltered their guar there.

Inside the stable Zayden and Hui paid for a quick cup of tea, some bread and scrambled kwama egg, and split a cigar between themselves. From the stable's owner they got directions to their intended destination, the gentleman's club aptly named "Desele's House of Earthly Delights," which sat across the plaza, its entrance in a narrow alleyway and down some stairs.

After finishing their meal and smoke the two men set back into the rain and followed the given direction to a three story bordello distinguished by red lanterns on its outside. They entered through the described door and were immediately hit with a sweet smoky smell upon stepping in. The establishment's main room was large and dimly lit with more red lanterns, small tables and stools arranged haphazardly abound. The weather had brought many patrons in, many of whom had their eyes fixated upon the nude dancers along the leftward wall.

Hui and Zayden were met at the door before they had a chance to shake the water from their clothes. A young Khajiit woman, dressed in olive green skirt and nothing else, head-to-toe with solid black fur, took from the men their cloaks and demanded of them all their weapons. Once the items were handed over and off to another servant for storage the Khajiit brought the two to the bar where Helviane Desele herself, a brunette Breton woman of similar skirt and similarly topless, was serving drinks.

"Newcomers to Suran? Welcome to my humble establishment," she greeted. "Take a seat wherever there is room. I'll have a girl come by and take your orders. And if you want to rent a room, come to me and we'll talk."

Zayden and Hui took a table near the back wall. Each table had a small metal bowl in its center clearly intended as an ashtray. Hui rolled a fresh cigar for both Zayden and himself and soon enough the same black Khajiit came over to take their order of mazte. The girl was quick to serve and it was not long before the rain-soaked hell that had been the last two days was a thing of distant memory.

For a long while neither of the two spoke, the two of them choosing to look across the room to the dancers, a small drum and lute band providing music. They sat in silence with attentive eyes and when they each finished two drinks they both had had no sight of any Argonian girls. When the Khajiit server returned again Zayden asked about renting a room and he and Hui were brought back to Helviane.

Hui, not wanting to arouse too much suspicion, ordered an average-priced room. Hui asked Zayden if he had ever smoked from a water pipe before. When he replied he hadd not Hui asked for one to be set up along with some food and more drink. Then, when it finally came time to pick their company for the evening, Helvaine began to recite her list of girls, emphasizing her variety for nearly every taste one could desire. When Hui asked if there were any Argonian girls available Helviane was a mixture of pleased and unsurprised.

"We happen to get one in not long ago," she said. "Clumsy thing, she is. Can't go a week without dropping a glass or a plate. She hasn't had much experience and, from the few customers she's had, she's a bit of a wooden board, if you understand my meaning. What was her name again…? Jeed-Ei?"

Zayden peeked at Hui from the corner of his eye. It was invisible to Desele but Hui was using visible effort to not appear surprised. "Jeed-Ei" must have been exactly the woman he was looking for. The longer journey would be worth the effort if she could be taken. "I have many other girls available," Desele continues, "ones who are much more experienced. You don't have to stick to your own kind, Argonian."

"I'll take her. I'm certain," Hui insisted.

"Very well then, sir. And you, Imperial?"

"Orc women," Hui answered. "The bigger and more muscles they have the be-"

Hui was quickly silenced by Zayden clamping his muzzle shut with one hand. Of course nothing Hui said was true and the Argonian laughed at his own joke through his nose. "Ignore him," said Zayden. "I'm here to keep my friend safe, not to partake. I'm already a married man."

"You and everyone else here," Desele shot back. "We have a rule here, Imperial; we don't allow two men to one girl in a room at a time. Like it or not you'll have to pick someone. No one will force you to touch her, if you don't want… Orc, then?"

"N-No, no… The black cat, the one serving us? Is she available?"

"Ah, Khinjarsi. Good choice." She logged the picks in a book on the bar top. "Your room will be prepared in about fifteen minutes. Please go back to your seat and you'll be served another round." Hui retreated back to the table and Zayden handed Desele ten extra coins as tip before doing the same. Another girl, a young Dunmer, served the final round of matze before the room was ready.

The two were led to a stairwell near the opposite side of the main room and up two flights of stairs. Their room was one of the first on the left. The room itself was a small rectangle with a stained glass window on the opposite end. In the center was a low table with the water pipe with four hoses, some finger foods, and pitcher of drink and glasses set up and arranged. The floor was covered in a patchwork of small rugs and the entire perimeter was lined with many large, flat cushions. The men were asked to make themselves comfortable and told that the girls would be arriving soon.

Zayden and Hui sat down just as the Dunmer left. Hui began examining and preparing the water pipe, commenting such things were commonly used in Black Marsh. Zayden meanwhile examined the pitcher, giving its contents a quick sniff. "Mead!" he exclaimed, pouring a small measure for himself and tasting it. "Strong mead, too. Not easy to come by in Vvardenfell. Guess my tip paid off."

"Same with this pipe," Hui added as he tinkered away with it. "It's of good quality. This place must make a pretty profit to afford such things. Oh, what am I saying! I shouldn't be giving this place any praise, the way it uses slaves! Damn the Dunmer and their practices… Sorry, Zayden. I know that Zeela-"

"She doesn't practice slavery, no," Zayden cut in, "but she's like most Dunmer, who are traditionalist. She would keep the practice in place even if she never took part… And to think, not long ago, we three all learned that I am now living retribution for the Dunmer and all their traditions, including slavery…"

Hui paused his work on the pipe for a moment. "As Nerevarine, you could speak against slavery. Attempt to ban the practice."

"It would be wishful thinking, even for the Nerevarine, to think he could accomplish such a feat. And I am no Nerevarine yet, Hui, despite what this ring proves. I'm an Imperial outlander to Morrowind, a face of the Empire. Trying to convince the Dunmer of anything is going to be a struggle, if it is at all possible… What I would give for another guide, one to navigate these Great Houses. Divayth could only say so much on the subject and I fear that was not enough. I fear we are heading into very shadowy territory, my friend."

"I have faith we will see it through," Hui reassured, "just as I have faith our plan tonight will work, too."

Zayden smiled back and began to drink more of his mead. Perhaps Hui was correct, perhaps not. In either case this bordello may be a good way to clear his mind of his future troubles. After a few moments the door opened and in came the black Khajiit from earlier, Khinjarsi. She quickly curled up inside one of Zayden's arms and pressed herself against his chest, purring and grinning.

"Khinjarsi glad Imperial has chosen me," she whispered. "Does sir like Khajiit?"

"I fell in love with one not a long time ago," Zayden answered, "and she loved me, but we could not be together. I had my obligations to another."

"Does Khinjarsi remind sir of her?" Zayden shrugged and scratched behind her ears. "Khajiit will make you forget all about her, guaranteed."

The Khajiit continued to nestle close and rubbed her face against his as Jeed-Ei, the Argonian Hui hoped to find, entered. Her pale, smooth yet scaly skin was beige with subtle brown bands, her eyes emerald green, and her head smooth and clean of any horns or fins, adorned instead with a purple veil that wrapped around the back of her skull. Like all the other girls she wore olive drab skirt and nothing else.

The moment Jeed-Ei entered, Zayden looked to Hui to see how he would react. His eyes could not have been any wider. He looked back to Jeed-Ei when she had met her gaze with Hui's and her eyes began to fill with tears. She fell forward onto her knees and into Hui's awaiting arms. For a long while they spoke not a word, she sobbing into his chest. Zayden merely looked on and smiled now seeing his friend's gamble was beginning to pay off.

Khinjarsi, meanwhile, looked on and trilled with curiosity. "Interesting," she remarked. "They cling like lovers, or special friends. Khinjarsi was told you two were newcomers to-"

Zayden quickly began pouring everyone drinks. The sooner he could get the Khajiit drunk, the sooner, he hoped, she would drop her suspicions. Zayden made a lackluster toast on the spot and together the room downed their drinks, followed immediately thereafter by another. To Zayden's surprise Khinjarsi drank the mead like it was water. Thankfully her attention fell off the Argonians quickly and she began using the water pipe, followed thereafter by everyone else.

The room soon filled with a thick white haze as everyone partook of the hookah, the air smelling sweet with vanilla, and the mead flowed in plenty. Hui and Zayden soon began sharing with the girls stories of their exploits, Hui's mostly during his time in Black Marsh and Zayden's dealing with his work with the Thieves Guild. Naturally nothing was said in regard to the Nerevarine prophecy. As the tales were told Khinjarsi continued more and more to rub her face and body against Zayden, hoping he would finally use her. Jeed-Ei meanwhile sat comfortably and content in Hui's arms and seemed to want nothing more in the world.

Eventually the Khajiit, after repeated failed advances, gave up in a huff. She angrily declared she had to use the facilities and took Jeed-Ei with her. Once gone Zayden cracked the window to vent the vapor in the air. When he sat back down and poured a new round for he and Hui the Argonian suddenly seemed not at all pleased. "H-Have I angered you?" Zayden slurred. "You've been enjoying yourself thus far. More than I can say for _my_ company this evening."

"My thoughts exactly," Hui grumbled. His face was flushed with drunkenness but his voice was surprisingly stable. "Have you forgotten what we are here to do? If Khinjarsi becomes too upset she will leave for good and will take Jeed-Ei with her! And our plan will be ruined!"

"What do you want me to do? She expects me to _use her_."

"Then _use her_, damn you!" Hui exclaimed.

"... If that was a joke, Hui, I don't find it very funny."

"Damnit, Zayden! We're about to steal a slave from a brothel and you're worried about offending your honor?! _If_ Zeela ever finds out she will understand your intentions, believe me. You're a member of the Thieves Guild. You're a fucking criminal! Start acting like one! Because if you mess this up I will never forgive you!"

Zayden was taken aback from this sudden change in Hui's demeanor. Drunk or not, Hui was not wrong. Zayden began to feel quite foolish. "... Vey well, Hui," Zayden said at length. "What will you do while I'm 'preoccupied?'"

"I'll take Jeed-Ei back downstairs and buy the Bittergreen and bring my bag back here. Just keep the Khajiit distracted." A few moments later the two returned. Jeed-Ei held a new full pitcher off mead and Khinjarsi was still quite angry. She flopped back down onto the cushions, this time putting herself a significant distance away from Zayden. She made no eye contact with him and began puffing away at the water pipe.

As soon as Jeed-Ei served a new round of drinks Hui quickly announced that he, too, needed to use the bathroom and asked Jeed-Ei to show her where it was. The two left and once Zayden and Khinjarsi were alone together she began to audibly growl in frustration.

"_They're_ probably going to have fun on their own," she seethed. "At least one of us is…"

Zayden snatched up his cup and gulped its contents down in one furious go, along with what remained of his self-respect. "Is that all you care about?" Zayden nearly whispered under his breath.

"It's what you paid me to do. I suppose I have your money either way, but I'd like to have some _fun_ along the way."

"Oh, 'fun?' Is that what you want? _Fun?_" Zayden shot to his feet and began tossing his clothes aside. "Well, on second thought, I decided I like getting my money's worth. So, we have something to mutually gain, kitty-cat. Get ready, because I have a wife waiting for me back in Balmora and I need to get some practice in for her."

Zayden dropped to the floor and threw himself atop the Khajiit. From this point forward details of exactly what the two did are not important. Suffice to say when Hui and Jeed-Ei returned to the room with his bag they each had to put mental blinds on both their eyes and ears to block out the exchange occurring in the room. Khinjarsi yelped and voiced muffled groans as her face was firmly pressed into a large pillow. Zayden sent an angry look in the direction of his friend and mouthed the words "Hurry up."

Hui wasted no time. He cleared off a section of the table and retrieved from his bag a mortar and pestle and hefty pinch of bittergreen leaves. He ground the leaves for over several minutes and poured the resulting fine powder into a mug of the mead. He then hovered a hand over the mug, whispered a few incomprehensible words, and what looked like a thin whisp of smoke entered the liquid. Hui then began grinding even more bittergreen along with a new, white granular substance in his apparatus. It took another several minutes for the new power to finish. By that time Khinjarsi was begging for a break and Zayden was praying for release.

When the second powder was poured into another drink and the spell cast upon it Hui placed the second mug on Zayden's side of the table and motioned that everything was ready. Zayden nodded and, turning his full attention back onto the Khajiit, gave one final, furious burst of effort into his intercourse. It finally ended with one explosive climax that rendered both he and the Khajiit into splayed, panting, sweaty messes on the floor.

It would be another minute before Zayden finally found the strength to sit back up. He glanced over to Jeed-Ei and Hui, both of them sharing slightly impressed looks. Khinjarsi rolled over and sat up a moment later, her eyes wide and firmly locked onto the Imperial.

"You lied to me," she said in a haggard, breathy voice. "Imperial did not need any 'practice.' Imperial has surprising stamina! And strength, the way you were able to handle me. This wife of yours must be a very happy woman indeed!"

Now fully embarrassed, Zayden shrugged his shoulders. Something about the praise of his "stamina and strength" rang familiar to Zayden but he could not remember exactly from where. "Truth be told," replied Zayden, "we have only made love once before. You have only been my _second_ lay, as far as I can remember."

The Khajiit raised an eyebrow at that last remark but quickly forgot about it when she suddenly realized she was incredibly thirsty. She snatched up the nearest mug and gulped down its contents, then turning her attention to the two Argonians.

"Hey, Jeed-Ei," she called out. "If your friend isn't going to put out, maybe you should try the Imperial out yourself. He's a reeee…" Her words trailed off like a leaf fluttered in a breeze. Then, like a snuffed candle, Khinjarsi fell backwards and was fast asleep.

Zayden nearly gasped at how quickly the potion worked. "I-Is she…?"

"She's fine," Hui finished, "just in a deep sleep. That white powder I mixed in was moon sugar. That with bittergreen makes a powerful sleeping potion. She'll be out until next morning, most likely." Hui picked back up the other mug and gave it to Jeed-Ei. "_This_ will be an invisibility potion. It will render you completely transparent and your every sound silent including your voice. But it will not last long, ten minutes at best. And it is weak; any sudden movements or if anything bumps into you the spell will break. Once you drink this, keep ahold of me if possible but keep as close as you can… Ready?"

Jeed-Ei gave a nervous smile and nodded. She took the cup from Hui and drank it whole. The two men then watched as she, over the next several seconds, became ever less and less opaque until she disappeared completely from sight.

Zayden scrambled to get his clothes on and Hui gathered his supplies. Soon the two, with Jeed-Ei occasionally brushing against Hui's tail to let him know she was close, exited the room and migrated back downstairs to the bar and to Desele. Hui took the lead and gave her a tip of his own, praising the establishment and their women simultaneously, stating he hopes to return someday soon. During the exchange Zayden turned around and took the room in one more time, knowing it was more likely his and Hui's last time here. His eyes eventually fell upon a particularly dimly lit corner on the opposite side and the sight there within made his blood chill.

A man, sitting at a table, was looking straight at Zayden. In the darkness his features were nearly impossible to make out but he was without a doubt watching him. Zayden wondered if it was possible he knew what they were doing, or that he could see Jeed-Ei. Zayden pretended to hear something behind him and turned back around to Hui. By then he had just finished up and was urging his friend toward the door. A girl returned to them their staff, cloak and weapons just before they stepped back outside.

By now the rains had finally died down to a drizzle, the skies still gray and overcast. Zayden waited until he and Hui had ascended the stairs before speaking. "I think we might have been found out," he whispered to Hui. "A man in the bordello was watching us the whole time as we were leaving. Don't raise suspicions, act natural, but we might want to quicken our pace."

Hui nodded in agreement and everyone quickened their pace to the fastest walk they could muster. They returned to the stable, retrieved their guar, and took off once they were sure Jeed-Ei had slipped onto the back of Hui's mount. They took off toward the river, to the docks, in search of a ferry. Many were available but few were of pontoon design large enough to take their mounts.

They chose upon a medium size pontoon with a canopy section near the stern. The boat's ferryman, a Dunmer man dressed much like the gondoliers of Vivec and his boy deck hand, sat bored under the canopy. The former smoked a long stemmed churchwarden pipe and the boy was rolling fistfulls of dice playing a numbers game. The two stood up as the riders' approach and the man halted them while they were still on the dock.

"Where to, travellers?" the ferryman asked.

"Vivec City," Zayden answered, "and soon, if possible. It's just us two and our guar."

The ferryman signaled to the boy and he came running over to lead the beasts onto the boat and tie them down. The riders dismounted and Zayden approached the ferryman readying his coin pouch. Just then a new voice sounded from the dock. Everyone turned and was met with the sight of a new person hopping off the dock and onto the boat.

The man was unmistakably dressed and armed like an Ashlander: a full suit of netch leather armor including a full helm with distinct white rimmed goggles, a length of red cloth wrapped around the neck and shoulders. The man was well armed with chitin weapons: a short one-handed spear, dagger and an axe sheathed at the waist, and a short bow and quiver of arrows secured to his back. He was quite clearly a warrior, but what he was doing so far south from his people's land was perplexing.

It took Zayden a moment more to realize but soon enough he knew this was the onlooker from the brothel. Zayden suddenly unsheathed his sword and aimed its point at the newcomer. To Zayden's surprise the Ashlander immediately raised his hands in surrender.

"Zayden, what are you doing!?" Hui protested.

"This man followed us from the brothel," Zayden answered. He took a step forward and brought the tip of the sword closer. "State your intentions, and quickly!"

"Be at ease, outlander," the Ashlander replied, his voice muffled behind his helm. "I am only here to help." He reached for a money pouch on his belt but stopped when Zayden tensed up. "Imperial, please. You and I both know you haven't much time and you need to leave Suran soon. Don't delay further." Zayden stepped back hesitantly and let the stranger grab his money. He quickly handed off to the ferryman a tall stack of coins.

"Umm, sir?" said the ferryman. "You have given me too much."

"The extra," the Ashlander replied, "is for you to set sail immediately, with no questions asked."

The ferryman paused for only a brief second before he and the boy set off to work. Within minutes the pontoon had shoved off, its main sail hoisted, and began its journey south down the Nabai River. Soon enough Suran disappeared behind a bend in the river. All this occurred with Zayden still threatening the Ashlander with the tip of his sword. The threat only broke when the boy suddenly called out to his master about the guar.

It was in that moment the spell on Jeed-Ei finally broke and she came fading into visibility. Once she knew she was spotted she hopped off and fled into Hui's protecting arms once more. The ferryman came marching over and was clearly furious. "Who in oblivion is _that_!?" he demanded.

His demand was quickly met by the Ashlander grabbing him by the shoulder and violently spinning him around to face him. "I thought we agreed, ferryman; no questions asked. She doesn't concern you, and if you are wise you will forget you ever saw her." He let go and pushed him backward to make the threat clear. The ferryman slunk to the bow of the ship and said nothing more of the subject.

Finally Zayden felt at ease with the stranger, at least enough to finally sheathe his weapon. He motioned to him and they, along with Hui and Jeed-Ei went under the canopy where the boy was steering the rudder. The two Argonians sat down near some crates and huddled close together. Then, to Zayden's surprise, for the first time since seeing her, Jeed-Ei spoke. She began whispering to Hui in Jel, the Argonian's native language, and he replied in kind. To the Imperial it sounded like a complex of grunts, chuffs and chittering, accompanied with body, tail, and hand movement. Whatever the two were discussing they quickly became engrossed and they seemed at peace in each other's arms.

Zayden left his friend be and turned his attention back to the Ashlander. He was standing next to the boy near the rudder. The boy was showing him his dice set and as Zayden approached the boy seemed to be explaining the rules of a game. He quickly stopped when Zayden approached, tucked his dice away, and returned his focus on the boat. He was afraid to look the Imperial in the eye.

The Ashlander turned and met Zayden's approach with a question. "How are the Argonians?"

"_She's_ fine," Zayden answered, "but forget them for the moment. I have questions that you _will_ answer… You _are_ the one from the bordello, yes?" The man nodded. "You followed us from there to the ferry?" Another nod. "Did you know we had the girl rendered invisible?"

"I did. Her tail, at one point, bumped into a chair. You may be able to hide the anxiousness in your eyes, Imperial, but your friend could not. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together."

"But you didn't tell the owner what we were doing, nor the town guard. You followed and helped us escape the town. Why?"

"Is it so hard to believe one would do such a thing?"

"Not if we were in Cyrodill, or anywhere where slavery is forbidden. But in Vvardenfell? And from an _Ashlander?_ That renders doubt."

"It would, if I were an Ashlander." Zayden scoffed at the notion, disbelieving, thinking he was playing games with him. "I am friends with the Ashlanders and have spent much time amongst them. They have clad me in their garb and their weapons in their friendship. But I am friend to them, not _of_ them. You could call me a sort of 'honorary Ashlander.' Such is how Nibani Maesa referred to me."

The name made Zayden perk up instantly, the memory from the Cavern of The Incarnate rushing back. "Nibani Maesa?" Zayden repeated. "You know her?"

"Indeed. Do you as well?"

"_Of_ her. But I am to meet her when my business in Vivec is complete."

"And what business would that be?"

"You would not believe me if I told you… Or perhaps you would…?" Zayden lifted his right hand and held out in front of the man his ring, One-Clan-Under-Moon-And-Star. "Look at this ring, 'Ashlander.' What significance does it hold for you?"

It only took a brief look to send the man reeling back, gasping and sounding dumbfounded. He would have fallen backwards onto the deck were it not for a nearby post of the canopy he grabbed onto. "By Azura," he exclaimed. He rushed back over and grabbed Zayden by the hand, giving the ring another gaze. "B-By Azura! By Azura! T-This is- T-The ring of the Incarnate! Moon-And-Star! Worn and its wearer still breathes!" The man looked back up at Zayden's face. "Nerevarine. _You_ are _Nerevarine!_"

Hui, hearing the commotion, shot up to his feet and walked over to Zayden, Jeed-Ei quickly following. The man's exclamations similarly garnered curiosity from the boy, who left his rudder and walked toward the group. He was quickly stopped by the ferryman who dismissed the Ashlander as mad and told the boy to stay at the rudder.

"You have no doubts?" Zayden asked. "You are certain this is that very ring? I could have forged a fake."

"This is no forgery," the man insisted. "As I live and breathe this is the very ring Indoril wore, the ring to reveal his reincarnation! And to think, Zayden, it _was_ you all along!"

Zayden took his hand back, pushed the man away, and drew his sword once again, this time bringing its tip within inches of the man's throat. "Not once, 'Ashlander,' have I ever said my name in your presence. Tell me who you really are this instant or you die!"

Slowly, the man raised both his hands up, placed them on each side of his helm, and lifted it off his head, revealing his face.

"A very old friend," said Caius


	12. Vivec City

Chapter 12: Vivec City

Caius Cosades recounted the tale of his survival and escape. He, Zayden, Hui, and Jeed-Ei formed a sitting circle beneath the boat canopy before it began, passing between everyone rations from one of the guars and a skin of flin Caius carried. The boy listened in as he continued to steer the pontoon. At one point even then ferrymen moved closer to the canopy and began eavesdropping himself.

The evening the Blades were able to capture Zayden was the same evening they attempted to kill Caius. Four other operatives rode to Caius's home upon horses deep in the night. Three of them dismounted to approach the home while a fourth remained outside acting as lookout. The three broke in through the front door with brute force. They came to the home expecting their target to be asleep and easy to apprehend. Little did they expect, upon entering, to be immediately attacked. The first guard received a face full of hot embers and Caius took his sword right from its sheath. As the first blade staggered backward clutching his face the remaining three drew their weapons and attacked Caius one by one. It was their mistake in assuming he would be a weak, defenceless old man. Caius fought and cut down each man dead until the burned man remained. The final man was slain before he ever recovered his vision.

Caius took from one of the Blades a crossbow, loaded it, and peeked out the open front doorway across the street. The remaining Blade was still on his horse waiting for the others to return. Caius entered the doorway and took aim at the Blade. Before he could make his escape Caius fired and the bolt struck deep beneath his right armpit. The rider rolled off the horse and struck his head hard upon the ground, knocking him unconscious.

Caius tossed the bow aside, ran to the body and dragged it inside with the others. He then grabbed a bag and filled it with enough supplies to last the next few days. Once settled he went to his bookshelves and set them ablaze before fleeing outside. He commandeered one of the four horses and spooked the rest into fleeing. Upon the horse he rode north for nearly two days straight, passing through Caldera, Ald'Ruhn, Maar Gan, and finally reaching Khuul before heading east to Urshilaku Camp. By then, regrettably, the horse had been run ragged and had to be put down.

Urshilaku Camp had been the place Caius previously visited to cure himself of his addiction to skooma. Part of his reason for picking this tribe over others was the known status of their wise woman, Nibani Maesa, as guide in the Nerevarine Prophecy and conduit to the word and will of Azura. It was to her that men and mer before Zayden had been sent only to end up failing. He knew if anyone could give him a new path forward it would be her.

Caius was welcome into the camp and immediately brought to the wise woman. In her yurt they shared food, drink, and peace pipe before Caius explained the new turn of events. It was obvious to the both of them that this attack by the Blades was their retribution for Caius's refusal to initiate Zayden into the prophecy. Caius's position as Grand Spymaster in Vvardenfell would be replaced with another and new hopefuls would continue to be brought in from all corners of Tamriel, if necessary. But this left the loose end of Zayden open, the last hopeful he ever received. Caius felt compelled to know if he was alive or had been killed.

Nibani pleaded with Caius for him to stay in Urshilaku Camp, believing that Zayden would inevitably bring himself here as per the prophecy. She reassured Caius he would have a home here where the Blades would never dare come. Caius understood her reasoning and was thankful for her offer, but insisted nevertheless needed to see for his own eyes Zayden's fate. Try as Nibani did she was unable to convince Caius otherwise, so she instead offered to gain insight through the goddess as to where he must go.

Nibani Maesa spent the next day in her yurt in deep, undisturbed meditation. She attempted to speak with Azura and ascertain Zayden's whereabouts. As this went on the crafters and weaponsmiths of the camp gave unto Caius new clothes, armor, and weapons for the journey back south, naming him an honorary Ashlander. After a day had passed, Nibani Maesa emerged from her yurt with a vision: Moon-And-Star and a house of pleasure in the Ascadian Isles. The camp donated a guar for his journey south and for another three days Caius cut through the Grazelands and the Molag Amur regions to reach Suran. And it was from that point Caius sold his mount and began visiting Desele's establishment every day until, as Nibani foretold, Zayden would cross his path.

In turn Zayden and Hui recounted their most recent adventures within Tel Fyr, meeting with Divayth Fyr and Yagrum Bagarn. This telling pleased Caius immensely, rightly recognizing Zayden's curing of his corprus as the completion of the Third Trial. When this second story was done, for a moment, no one else knew what to say, an air of uncertain silence lingering. It was finally Zayden who was the first to speak and attempt to lighten the mood. "At least one thing can be said of the Ashlanders, Caius: They somehow managed to _improve_ your appearance."

Caius gave a hearty laugh like it was his first in years, sliding a hand over his freshly shaven head. Caius's face had changed as well, the skin around his eyes permanently painted dark blue with thin lines reaching down from the tear ducts and across the cheeks. The Ashlanders tattooed Caius as part of his honorary status. "It may not fool everyone," Caius admitted, "but it will have to do to protect my identity. I was willing to alter my face to find you, Zayden. If I could reach you before others did it would be worth it."

"But for what end, Caius?" Zayden questioned. "When I was first brought to you, you chose to abandon the Nerevarine Prophecy. You could have escaped and be living amongst the Ashlanders right now. Why involve yourself in this again?"

"I chose to no longer play a pawn's part in the prophecy," Caius clarified. "I have always believed the Nerevarine Prophecy would come to fruition, though I always had my doubts it would occur in my lifetime."

"But you are- were- a Blade, a hand of the Emperor himself, the order that now attempted to kill you… I had a lot of time to think about things during my stay in Tel Fyr. In particular, one thing I asked my Blade captors about but received no answer: Of what concern is Dunmer religious prophecy to the Emperor and the Cyrodillic Empire? What do they have to gain from it?"

Caius in response gave a grim grin. "Is it not obvious?" he said. "The Tribunal Temple is and has always been one of the greatest powers in Tamriel. Its existence has successfully staved off invading influence for hundreds of generations in Morrowind. The Empire may be great in size and numbers but all such powers fail when faced with the isolationism of the Tribunal. The Empire has been led by a dynasty of emperors but the Tribunal has been led by living _gods,_ the same three since its inception. The faith of its followers is strong and unbreaking and against it the Empire can not win.

But that is only _half_ of what keeps the Empire and others out of Morrowind completely. Their other foe is the same foe of the Temple itself: Sixth House and its leader, Dagoth Ur. His threat to the Empire and the world is obvious: the spread of the Corprus disease and Dagoth Ur's desire to 'protect' his people, the Dunmer, and turn all other mer, men, and beast races into his twisted, corprus vision. If this threat is ever to be defeated and the Empire is to ever expand into Morrowind both the Temple and Dagoth Ur must fall. And fortunately for the Empire, a prophecy exists to predict both…"

"The prophecy of the Nerevarine," Zayden spoke aloud. Zayden felt foolish for not having realized this earlier. "So the Empire would take advantage of this second coming of Indoril to move in and plant themselves into Morrowind permanently… The enemy of my enemy is a friend… You must have understood this was the intent all along, Caius."

The old man nodded. "Of course I did."

"Knew and believed in?"

For a moment Caius shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "_Still_ believe," Caius clarified.

This admission shocked Zayden. "After the Empire attempted to kill you, you still believe in their cause?!"

"I was sentenced to death for failure to perform my duties, not for my lack of faith. The Empire may say otherwise but my reasons are my own. I believe in the Empire and see their expansion into Morrowind as an ultimate good."

"Do you see me as a tool of the Empire then, Caius?" asked Zayden. "A pawn? A useful fool to achieve your ends?"

Caius seemed to grow angry at these accusations. "You are my _friend,_" Caius insisted. "I rode across Vvardenfell and back to see to your safety. I could, indeed, have much more easily stayed amongst the Ashlanders. But I chose not to."

"And now that you've found me alive and breathing, what will you do now?"

"See your journey to its end. Not for the Empire, but to bring peace to my soul. This I promise you, Zayden."

Zayden could not quite grasp Caius's reasoning, but he saw in his friend's eyes that he was no enemy. He was indeed still his friend. "How can you still grant the Empire any legitimacy, after how they've treated you?" Zayden asked.

"I could ask the same of you, Zayden," Caius retorted. "You currently travel to Vivec at this very moment, to meet with the Great Houses. _Fulfill the Fourth Trial?_"

Zayden had to admit, Caius was not wrong. "You… You did not experience what I did when I first wore Moon-and-Star," Zayden explained. "What I saw, what I felt… The memories of an entire lifetime, one lived centuries ago… It is all too impossible to ignore. Like you I now feel compelled- pushed forward- to understand what I saw and follow this new path wherever it leads me."

"And so it shall be the same for me," Caius stated, "and I shall aid you in all ways possible. I can prepare you for your meetings with the three Great Houses of Vvardenfell. What do you know of the Great Houses, Zayden?"

"Only what Divayth Fyr could tell, given his partially outsider's perspective. Of House Telvanni he could say the most: a house of wizards, entirely devoted to the study and exploration of the deepest mysteries of magic, largely unbound and unhindered by any sense of rules or morality. 'Might makes right' for them. Interestingly, it was his house that Fyr said to approach first, believing that they would take my request to be named Hortator with little seriousness, granting it out of pure amusement."

"That follows some logic," Caius commented. "I would only fear their xenophobia toward you, _Imperial._ The Telvanni are no allies to the Empire either."

"And of the other houses?" Zayden asked Caius.

"House Hlaalu, I think, would be friendly to your request. They are a merchant house, their chief interest being trade and commerce. They are naturally welcoming to the Empire and their customs, seeing them as invaluable trading partners. They would see your potential rise as Nerevarine much as the Blades would, as a chance for the Empire's expansion into the province and a way to increase their profits.

House Redoran, however, may prove difficult. They are a house rich in Dumner tradition and preserving warrior's honor. For this they are natural allies with the Temple. It is highly likely members will challenge you to fight for the honor of being named Hortator. Spilling blood may be an inevitability."

"What of the Temple itself? I recall Fyr saying something troubling, that members of the Temple may attempt to kill me if they catch word that I am claiming to be Nerevarine. Do you think this true?"

"Perhaps an exaggeration on his part," dismissed Caius with a slight chuckle. "Powerful as the Temple would be in Vivec City, the act of the city ordinators cutting down any and every crazy person claiming to be Nerevarine would create a lot of corpses and a stain on their reputation. Caution is advised but the guard, I believe, will be on good behavior. I'm actually glad you brought this up, Zayden. Before we speak to any of the houses, your presence must be made known to them. The leaders of the houses will not simply allow anyone demanding to be named Hortator before them. You may be forced, Zayden, to do what your time in the Thieves Guild has taught you _not_ to do: become noticed."

Zayden laughed but pondered this possibility. It seemed like another inevitability, the implications of which frightening him. "It seems my days in the shadows and as a relative unknown are quickly coming to an end," Zayden mused. He looked to his friend Hui who still kept an arm around Jeed-Ei, the woman now wrapped in a blanket. "I'm sorry to entangle you up in all this as well, friend. You and Jeed-Ei."

"I would not have come with you this far if I was afraid of being in the public eye," Hui laughed. "You need not worry about me. I will remain by your side. Always."

"What of you, Jeed-Ei? This need not be your journey as well," Zayden then asked her. She did not answer, instead looking to Hui. "Is something wrong? Can she not speak Cyrodillic?"

"No, only Jel," Hui explained. "She can understand Cyrodillic well enough…" Hui took a moment to translate something to Jeed-Ei and she spoke something back, something that seemed to surprise Hui and turn his expression grim. They exchanged a few more words before he turned back to Zayden. "... She wonders, Zayden, what will Nerevarine do about the enslaved. Will you advocate for their release, or will you preserve the customs of 'your people?'"

The question struck Zayden like a hammer to his chest. It was something he obviously had not considered at all. Zayden's instincts guided toward the path of abolition, but his new nature conflicted. It was possible he was no longer simply "Zayden." He was now potentially "Nerevarine" as well, a titilage that held with it the future of the Dunmer people. Slavery was seen as an ancient birthright of the Dunmer, especially in the face of the growing Empire threat. The Empire had long ago forbid the practice but made exception for the Dunmer and Morrowind partially for that very aforementioned reason, but most knew that this status would not last forever.

Zayden now understood, as Imperial, and if truly Nerevarine, he would eventually have to decide on this practice. Abolition may be better done by a figure of Dunmer faith than an invading force. But for the former, revolt against taking such a position would be intense and seen as a betrayal of the Nerevarine onto his own people. Staying the course, conversely, weighed much more heavily upon Zayden's heart. This would result in a continued silent suffering of the enslaved people…

"Zayden?" Hui said. The Imperial realized that he had been silent for the last thirty seconds, lost in thought and staring blankly at the floorboards in front of him.

"F-Forgive me," Zayden replied. "Her question, it just… Tell her that I _will_ work toward abolition, but I can not promise results." It was the best answer he could give whilst still being honest. Hui translated an answer and Jeed-Ei seemed to give an approving gesture back. Zayden suddenly found himself finding it hard to look her in her eyes. Zayden abruptly excused himself and retreated to an empty part of the pontoon. No one followed him and soon the others split off to do their own things to make time pass. Hui and Jeed-Ei continued to huddle together and the former began reading with the girl some of his shrunken magic texts. Caius returned to the boy and began paying dice games.

Hours would go on in relative peaceful silence. The overcast skies began to burn away as the vessel drifted south. Eventually the sun's light broke through and began to warm the soaked land. It was a late-day sun fortelling a near evening. It would be well into nightfall before anyone caught their first glimpse of Vivec City.

The city was an amazing marvel of engineering to witness, even in the deepening night they arrived in. Its main construction was seven large "canton" buildings, each as large in width and length as a small village and seemed just as tall. The structure itself was pyramid in shape with a rounded dome top, numerous stairs and walkways wrapping around their exteriors to numerous levels. Caius explained to Zayden, Jeed-Ei, and Hui the purpose of the main seven structures. There were two residential cantons, Saint Olms and Saint Delyn, an entire canton built for each of the three Great Houses, an arena canton, two cantons for the Temple near the southern tip, and a Foreign Quarter canton where their boat was bound to dock to.

The pontoon lowered its sail and the ferryman and boy paddled the rest of the way within the city's canals. Each canton loomed immense over the vessel and the waterways were crowded with small personal craft and floating market stalls. The air was alive with voices and abuzz with market sounds. The pontoon drifted past row after row of these stalls to reach the city's center where it cut right and began heading to the northernmost Foreign Quarter.

The boat finally hitched itself to a dock and in quick fashion a gangplank was extended onto it by a dock hand. A Vivec ordinator promptly let himself across the plank and onto the vessel to meet its ferryman and passengers. The Temple ordinators were clad head-to-toe in a ornate set of golden bonemold armor with royal blue kilt, tall shield and a uniquely distinct helm. The helm was a face mask depicting a stern and handsome elven face, the head crowned in a tall mohawk of bright red hair. For some unknown reason, upon first seeing this face in the helm, Zayden felt a connection to its visage, as if he should know who the mask depicted.

The ordinator first began talking with the ferryman before turning his attention to the company. He first spoke with Caius who had already dawned his helmet. The ordinator treated the "Ashlander" with intense suspicion, warning Caius to stay within the law and that the ordinators would be watching their every move. One could hear the guard mutter the word "scum" beneath his breath before he turned his attention to the Imperial.

"What's your business here, outlander?" he asked.

"Guild business," Zayden told him, "with the Guild of Thieves."

The ordinator chuckled. "No Thieves Guild in the holy city, fool. Not even here in the Foreign Quarter." Zayden, of course, knew this couldn't be true but decided to play along with the guard's ignorance.

"I did not mean that there was," said Zayden. "I am to meet with compatriots and travel out of the city with them."

This seemed to satisfy the guard and he then turned his attention to the two Argonian. "What about them?"

"The man is a friend of mine, not of any guild affiliation, and the girl-" Zayden paused for the briefest of moments. "The girl is my slave." The lie made the two Argonians flinch. "I've only recently bought her to be my friend's wife a few days ago. As you can see we have yet to purchase her any real clothes. Such will be our first priority in the city."

"If you deem it necessary," the ordinator dismissed. "Very well. Welcome to Vivec. Your beasts will not be allowed in the city. I will have someone come by and stable them on the mainland near the silt strider landing north of here." The company thanked the guard and began to disembark the pontoon.

The company ascended up a wooden stairwell onto the lowest walkway that encircled the Foreign Quarter canton. This like the water markets was bustling with people even at this later hour. Zayden mentioned to the others his intended destination; a book store in this very canton where he knew the Thieves Guild operated. They had only walked for a few minutes before Zayden was suddenly grabbed at the shoulder from behind by Jeed-Ei and spun around. She began to hiss and curse at him in Jel and only stopped when Hui pulled her back.

"She is angry you referred to her as a slave," Hui translated. "And I, for one, am not pleased with this either."

"I'm sorry, Hui," Zayden apologized. "It was only meant to be a cover story. It will be the last time she will be referred to as such, if it can be helped." Hui wearily accepted the explanation with a slow nod and the company soon continued onward. With directions from a city resident they were soon on the right path to their intended book store. They entered the Foreign Quarter canton proper into one of its lower levels, the canalworks, a narrow maze of hallways, plazas, and corridors, and home to a number of shops. Their intended book shop was on the eastern side.

Inside the company was met by the store's owner, a brown-haired Breton by the name of Simine Franilie. He quickly welcomed the group and asked if they needed any help looking for something in particular. Zayden answered, asking for a book on a gentleman named "Jim." Simine grinned and asked the group to follow him to a shelf near the back of the store.

Simine reached for an unassuming book on the shelf and plucked it out. Immediately after sounded a clank of a heavy lock and the entire bookshelf and the wall behind it swung inward revealing a stairwell leading downward. The group descended and the door shut and locked behind them, the stairwell entering into a small speakeasy inhabited by many fellow thieves. All the eyes of the room quickly fell upon the newcomers with suspicion but upon studying Zayden further they just as quickly began to ease their guard.

Behind the bar was a finely dressed Dunmer man that motioned the group over and immediately began serving everyone a glass of matze without having been asked. "Welcome, stranger," said the Dunmer to Zayden. "To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

"Blackcap Zayden, of Balmora," the Imperial answered. The thieves sitting closest to Zayden at the bar tuned their heads in recognition of the name, the Dunmer similarly raising an eyebrow and a grin.

"The very man who helped us expand in Pelagiad? '_Rat Slayer?'_" Zayden rolled his eyes at the return of that name but chuckled just as quickly. "You've done the Guild a fine service, brother! Welcome to Vivec. Your first round is on me. So what brings you to this holy city?"

"I had hoped to speak with Jim, if it is possible. I have very important business to discuss. Not exactly guild related, but important nonetheless. Also, my Argonian friend is in need of some clothes, if some can be spared."

"I think we have something she can wear, certainly. I'll see if he is available. I'm sure he will want to speak with you, having known of your exploits. Take a seat anywhere." The Dunmer gestured to a table with four stools and the group sat down as the man disappeared through a back door.

It wouldn't be long before the Dunmer returned and led everyone behind the bar and through the same door. At the end of a short corridor was a medium sized office where Gentleman Jim Stacey himself sat in a plush ornate chair smoking from a fancy churchwarden. Jim Stacey was a Redguard with finely weaved and oiled cornrows atop his head and finely groomed moustache. He was dressed both oddly and extravagantly in navy blue tailcoat over a puffy white shirt, cream breeches, tall white socks and black leather shoes. He took notice of the newcomers and with a smile stood up to shake everyone's hand.

"Welcome to Vivec and my fine establishment," he greeted warmly. "You must be Zayden, Imperial. _Rat Slayer._ Grand work in Pelagiad! Visited the tavern myself a few weeks back. Ahnassi is a fine kitty and the Halfway Tavern shall make a good place for our brothers and sisters. I owe you a debt for your work, friend." Jim turned his attention to the others and introduced himself to them properly. "I am Gentleman Jim Stacey, 'Master Thief' of the Guild of Thieves in Vvardenfell. You have all already met my second-hand-man, Crazy Legs. I own the bar and he runs it." The Dunmer gave a quick bow before excusing himself back to his work.

Jim went to a cabinet and began making drinks for the company, this time Cyrodillic Brandy, making a quick statement on its good year. He served a glass to each person, intentionally giving Jeed-Ei her's last. As he did he gestured to a wardrobe on the other side of the room. "I'm told you're in need of clothing? I think I may have a few clothing articles that will fit you in there. Feel free to take your pick." Jeed-Ei beamed a wide toothy smile before bolting off to sift through the offerings. "And no, I'd rather you _didn't_ ask why I have women's clothing in my wardrobe. Or _Argonian_ women's clothing at that."

"I'll assume you have good reasons," Zayden dismissed, he equally wishing to change the subject.

"How are your masters, Blackcap? Sugar-Lips and Zeela? I haven't seen the latter since she was here planning the Hlaalu heist."

"She made it back well enough, but not without injury. She regrets she could not accompany me here."

"It is understandable she could not. A mess of a job that was, all said and done, lives lost as there were… So, what _does_ bring you here, Imperial?"

"Perhaps we should sit before I begin. The story is long…"

Jim and the three others took seats on nearby ottomans as Jeed-Ei continued to search through the wardrobe. Zayden began by showing Gentleman Jim his ring, Moon-and-Star, and asked if he knew what it was. He did not, simply remarking on its craftsmanship and that one could probably fetch a pretty sum fencing it. Zayden explained the ring's true importance in detail and recounted to Jim all the events from after his kidnapping. As the story unfolded Jeed-Ei would hop back and forth from the wardrobe holding up a different article of clothing, showing Hui in particular.

Jim throughout the telling seemed to absorb the account quite passively, reclined in his chair and puffing away from his pipe. No particular thing, from being spoken to by Azura or meeting the Dwemer within the Corprusarium elicited any strong reaction, as if such things were common knowledge to him. Zayden had to be reminded by Jim that he had previously been to Tel Fyr and had stolen the Skeleton Key from Divayth Fyr. Jim took particular amusement when Zayden told him that Zeela now was in possession of the key. But regardless, when the tale concluded, Jim simply straightened himself in his chair and calmly stated "This has been a wonderful story… But what does this all have to do with me?"

"Uhh…" Zayden was initially taken aback from Jim's lack of concern. Hui and Caius seemed to share in the feeling. "Has nothing I said meant anything to you? Do you not believe me?"

"My 'belief' is not necessary, Zayden. In truth, I'm not sure I believe a single word of this story of yours. Oh I'm well aware of the Nerevarine Prophecy, don't get me wrong. I'm just simply having trouble believing it's _you._ But I believe you a sane man, and no sane man would come all this way to make up an unbelievable tale. So, what _have_ you come here?"

"I was hoping you could help me. You did just say you owe me a debt, yes?" Jim nodded, cursing his big mouth. "Perhaps it can be done and over with now… I need to meet with the three Great Houses to be named Hortator. If you could-"

"Bride them all?" Jim interrupted. "That could be a hefty sum, collectively, and not everyone can be so easily paid off. Especially some of those Telvanni."

"Not bribery. To be named Hortator by a house I need the approval of each of its leading members. And if word and rumor of a Nerevarine hopeful began to explode from Vivec, they would have little choice but to come and see him for themselves. No one has an ear to the streets like you, and with your influence-"

"An underground propaganda campaign then?" Gentleman Jim asked. "Hmm… I like the way you think, Zayden. Should be easy enough to accomplish… Ok. Consider it done." Jim sat up and went back to his cabinet to serve another round of drinks. "I have my contacts high and low, naturally. I can get the word whispered on the lips of every man and mer in the city. And then the heads of the houses will still have to take the bait and travel to the city to conviene. This will all take time… At least a week, I'd wager. I hope you weren't expecting to return home soon." Jim served the drinks and returned to his chair and pipe. "And I can not guarantee results. I assume you'll be staying in Vivec for this time?" Zayden nodded. "Then you'll have to find your own flop to crash in. St. Olms and Delyn are residential cantons only for people who live in the cityu. And the Foreign Quarter only has so many places for people low on coin."

"It's not as if we are destitute," Zayden laughed. "I'm sure, with all our purses put together we'll manage. Thank you, Master Thief."

"Please, 'Jim' is fine. You've given to the cause so I am willing to give back." Jim raised his glass and proposed a toast for the days ahead. The others joined in and finished their glasses. It was around that time that Jeed-Ei returned to the others appearing to have finally chosen something to wear. To everyone's curiosity it was perhaps the poorest, least extravagant thing she had yet taken from within the wardrobe. It was a long, soil brown robe with heavy flowing sleeves over beige tunic, undershirt, and pants, all unremarkable in appearance save for the fabric's good quality. She naturally wore no shoes and she had already ripped a crude hole in a seam in the back of the pant and robe to slip her tail through. She further wrapped a light brown length of cloth around her neck and head, wearing it in a tagelmust fashion like the native people of Hammerfell. She returned to Hui's side and chuffed in approval.

"A fine choice," Jim commended with a chuckle.

Caius gave an amused sound as well. "Of all the things she could have worn," he mused, "she concluded with this?"

"Perhaps," said Jim, "she doesn't want to draw attention to herself? Avoid the attention of anyone looking to return her to her previous master?" The company blinked in stun at how accurate Jim's guess was. "What? It's not so hard to realize she's a stolen slave. Was this also your doing, Blackcap?"

"Hui's, more accurately," Zayden replied. "I helped him escape his chains and so he asked that I help her."

"The Thieves Guild is usually in the business of stealing _things,_ not people. You do know Twin Blades exists for abolitionists, right? Freeing slaves may not be the best thing to get known for _if_ you are Nerevarine."

"Yes. I've begun to come to terms with this recently. But perhaps change is possible?"

Jim did not seem to agree but chose to drop the issue. After a few more formalities and finishing their drinks the company said their thanks and farewells before departing the speakeasy and bookstore. It was now deepening into evening when the group stepped back outside. Even with her new vail over her muzzle, it was clear that Jeed-Ei was now grinning for her new clothes. She walked like a feather upon the wind once back outside and with enough room to dance about. Hui by extension grinned as he watched her, happy to see her smiling.

The company made its way around the canton and up to a higher level to seek out an inn. One was eventually found and a room was rented. Up onto that moment Caius had been reserved and quiet, choosing to retire to bed almost immediately. But upon the next morning Caius seemed reinvigorated and acted with a renewed purpose. He began with Zayden for the days until the head of the Great Houses arrived in Vivec to fulfill what his purpose in the Blades would have been and pick up lessons where Divayth Fyr left off. Caius committed himself to teaching Zayden everything he would need to know about the houses and what to expect in his quest to be named Hortator by them.

Life for Zayden began to slightly resemble his early days in the Thieves Guild, save for the sparring. Every evening became filled with study, Caius having permission to borrow books from Simine's shop. The sessions were relentless for Caius knew there was limited time to prepare Zayden for his task. As this went on Hui and Jeed-Ei would leave and come back to the inn room at their whim to pass time in their own way, usually exploring the markets for alchemical ingredients and visiting shops. Hui similarly took advantage of Simine's offer and began pouring himself into more books of spells, magic, and alchemy. Jeed-Ei, as much as she could force herself, watched and studied alongside Hui as he went about his work. She caught onto the basics but was less successful in implementing them but she nevertheless tried and tried again.

Outside the confines of their quarters, for the first two days upon arriving to Vivec, the city and its people carried on as normal. Then on the third day the whispers and rumors began to surface. A tavern drunk in St. Olms, a news cryer in the Hlaalu Canton plaza, beggars in the waistworks and markets. Gradually, Jim Stacey's pieces began to reveal themselves, doing their part to spread the word. To the general public of Vivec City, ones not aware of the inner machinations pulling the strings, the rumors appeared as if from the Void, naturally yet from pure nothingness. But Zayden and his company, of course, knew better, and when they left their quarters during the day they would hear more and more of these manufactured rumors.

When word of a possible Nerevarine hopeful finally reached the ears of the Great Houses, House Telvanni, with their ability as wizards to teleport, were the first to assemble within their canton. Then over the next several days riding parties from across Vvardenfell arrived to Vivec bearing the remaining heads of houses Redoran and Hlaalu, the former the last to fully assemble. When the three houses were finally assembled and prepared to have revealed to them this Nerevarine, the rumors of his arrival were at a fever pitch among the city's residents and with it came a problem not Zayden nor Caius quite expected.

As the rumors of the Nerevarine grew so did claims of other people within the city falsely identifying themselves as the Incarnate. The number of claims began small but exploded exponentially. The city ordinators had the unenviable position of sorting through every scam artist and false claim-maker claiming the title of "Nerevarine." While most were obvious fakes and liars and quickly proven false, some proved to be convincing candidates upon first inspection, some even going so far as to craft replicas of the Moon-and-Star ring. The number of new potential Nerevarine grew to such an amount that the city ordinators began to make a spectacle of them. For two hours a day, starting an hour after high noon, the guard began bringing candidates to the outdoor plaza in front of the High Fane in the Temple Canton, central building of the Tribunal Temple in both Vivec and Vvardenfell. The great floating stone Baar Dur and The Palace of Vivec, the layered pyramid of the Palace Canton where the demi-god himself was said to live, loomed to the south as if observing the whole spectacle.

The matter, for public benefit and amusement, was handled by odinators with an air of mirth to the proceedings. Candidates would be asked to stand upon a literal soap box to make their claim. Then, if the candidate had a ring they claimed to be Moon-and-Star, a slave was brought out to have the ring put on their finger. Naturally all else who were given the ring to wear lived and the candidates were swiftly taken away by guard to make way for the next hopeful. Rumor said that hoaxers were jailed and would stay for months while other more grim rumors said they were killed.

It was upon one of these spectacles that Zayden, Hui, Caius, and Jeed-Ei travelled to the Temple Canton. It had been ten days since Gentleman Jim first set his propaganda campaign into action. A sizable crowd of onlookers had already formed and at the present time of day the line of potentials were several deep. Zayden's friends wished him luck but stayed mixed amongst the onlookers as Zayden continued onward, pushing his way through the throngs of people to reach the front and catch an ordinator's attention. After a quick look of the ring the guard seemed eager to bring him into the line.

One by one the remaining men ahead of Zayden were brought upon the soap box to make their claim as Nerevarine, each met with the heckles and jeers of the crowd. On this day less than half the men brought their own forgery of Moon-and-Star and inevitably each was forced to take their ring off and put it on a male Khajiit slave. The rings all failed to kill the slave and the candidates were quickly whisked away to be jailed. It was not very long before Zayden was finally brought up.

Jeers of "Outlander" were spattered about as the Imperial was brought and stood atop the soap box. He was ordered to state his name and he gave it, then ordered to make his case. Zayden took a deep breath and announced to the crowd the truth.

"I was brought to this land, Vvardenfell, under capture and by order of Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself." Already jeers and mocking gasps emanated from the crowd but Zayden persisted through it. "I refused, at first and for years upon my arrival, to follow the prophecy and chose instead to pursue my own life and my own adventures. Through it I gained many friends, allies, and the love of my wife." The crowd began to mock with wolf whistles and, for a split moment, it actually managed to get Zayden himself to grin.

"But then," he continued, "my refusal to follow the Seven Trials became known to those who first captured me, and so they captured me once more. They brought me deep into the Ashlands, to the Cavern of the Incarnate, where the ring 'One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star' was held." Zayden held up his right hand and presented the ring to all. Again the mocking sounded.

"When I put the ring upon my finger I witnessed an entire lifetime, one of eras past, fragmented but true. I witnessed the life of Hortator Indoril Nerevar, his experiences, his greatest accomplishments… an, ultimately, his betrayal. His betrayal by the demi-gods of the Tribunal!" The mirth of the audience quickly turned to harsh rejection. A few stones came soaring toward Zayden, acts quickly met with punishment by the nearby ordinators. "I do not claim to know the Tribunal's reasoning, whether they be for good or ill. The results of their actions are all around us and speak for themselves… But I know their actions to be a betrayal. A betrayal of their trust _of_ and _from_ a friend. And as Nerevarine I will persist to hold the Tribunal gods accountable! Sixth House will finally fall, Dagoth Ur will be silenced, and the Tribunal will answer for their crimes!" More protest erupted but Zayden again persisted.

"It was during my capture I was also attacked by creatures of Corprus, the demons of Dagoth Ur! I became infected with their disease and was brought to the Corprusarium of Divayth Fyr, Telvanni wizard. It was under his care I spent many days where he was ultimately able to cure me of the disease, thus fulfilling the Second Trial of the Nerevarine Prophecy… I have no memory of my past of my life in the mainland before my first day in Vvardenfell, thus fulfilling the _First_ Trial." The crowd now turned to groans of disbelief. Zayden once more raised his hand to display the ring. "And this ring, the _true_ Moon-and-Star, fulfills the Third Trial!"

Zayden's hand was suddenly grabbed by an ordinator and examined. "It is an impressive forgery!" the ordinator announced to the crowd. "One that nearly fools a man of the Temple such as myself! But it is no doubt still a forgery. You now have your choice, outlander: put the ring on the slave and prove your claim false or come peacefully to the jail now."

The onlookers laughed and taunted the Imperial to put the ring on the Khajiit. Zayden knew he could not, understanding fully well that anyone else that would put on Moon-and-Star would die… Even though he never witnessed anyone else wear the ring… Suddenly, before the Tribunal Temple and the large crowd, Zayden's mind began to swim with doubt. Could his visions have been a product of his own imagination, manifested from a deep inner desire to _want_ the prophecy to exist within him? What would he do if the Khajiit did put on the ring and lived?

"Speak, Imperial!" the ordinator demanded. "Make your decision!" The crowd joined in and began to chant their demand for Zayden to act. Zayden turned his gaze to the frightened slave standing across from him, then to his friends in the distance. Zayden knew what had to be done, but he could not make it happen to this innocent person. Regrettably, to prove his claim, Zayden _had_ to make another wear the ring. But it would not be this slave.

Zayden turned around and met the gaze of the same ordinator's mask. "Do you doubt my claim as Nerevarine, holy ordinator?" Zayden asked him.

"Of course!" he replied. "I doubt your claim as all the others have failed in theirs!"

"You have already said you believe this ring a forgery. If that is the case…" Zayden removed Moon-and-Star and held it out in front of the Ordinator. "Show me the faith of you and the Temple. Put the ring on now and prove its illegitimacy."

The Ordinator took a single step back and a new type of jeering came from the audience, one now directed at the guard. But behind it there was a new silence. A sizable portion of the people remained still, now willing to merely listen. "I-I…" the Ordinator began. It was obvious that none of the Vivec guard had dared put on any of the previous forgeries themselves, instead subjecting slaves to the task. Now presented with this new challenge the guard was clearly taken aback. "D-Don't insult my faith, n'wah!" the ordinator cursed. "To wear such a fakery would be a blasphemy to the Tribunal Temple. Now put it on the slave and stop wasting everyone's time!"

"Hmm… Very well, holy sir. I do not want to do this, but I will not kill this innocent slave, so if you leave me no other choice-"

Zayden thrust the ring forward toward the ordinator's hand. He in response pulled his hand back but the ring managed to reach halfway down the first segment of one of his fingers. That much was all it took to render the ordinator crumbling backwards like a soaked blanket fallen off a clothes line. The crowd gave a collective gasp before becoming deathly silent.

The other nearby ordinators reacted by unsheathing their weapons and surrounding Zayden. One more rushed over to the fallen man, removed his helm, and quickly examined him. "By the Gods," he exclaimed, "the man is dead!"

The ordinators tensed up. They all clearly wanted to strike and cut down Zayden where he stood but none dared. A long moment held in the stand off, no one moving another inch. The ordinator that examined the dead body stood up and took slow measured steps toward Zayden, extending a shaking open hand. "Give the ring to me," he demanded, his voice equally affected. "I choose, of my own will, to gamble my life to test the ring once more…" He turned his attention to his fellow ordinators. "If I should fall as well, brothers, let it be known that I declare this man's claim genuine! Let no one further surrender their lives. Let this Imperial, Zayden, be declared 'Nerevarine!'"

The surrounding ordinators, one by one, began to lower their weapons. Another chilling silence fell over everyone as Zayden passed the ring to the guard. He took and held it for a moment in his palm, turned his eyes toward the sky, spoke aloud a prayer and slipped on Moon-and-Star. Just like the other he crumbled and fell to the ground dead. The onlookers gasped once more, some bursting into cries. There was no further denying it.

On that day, the incarnate of Hortator Indoril Nerevar was known to the city and word would soon spread across Vvardenfell and Tamriel like wildfire.

His name was Zayden.


	13. House Telvanni

Chapter 13: House Telvanni

A cold, foreboding air hung upon the Temple Plaza. The city ordinators, having drawn their weapons at Zayden moments ago, now began to treat him like an honored guest. The dead bodies were quickly taken away and one of the guards present elected himself commanding officer and asked the Nerevarine what he desired. Zayden wished to return to his room in the Foreign Quarter. The request was met and the ordinators on site gathered around Zayden to form a protective barrier of shield and metal armor. The same guard ordered Zayden to lead the way forward and he did, linking back up with Hui, Caius, and Jeed-Ei firstly.

None of Zayden and his company spoke anything as they made their return journey back across the length of Vivec. All the while the crowd in the plaza followed, a mixture of fascination, disbelief, and in some cases anger. None of the crowd truly lashed out but there was a feeling that it could happen soon. It was for that reason the ordinators hastened the group faster. The group arrived without incident and did not leave their room for the remainder of the day.

Ordinators posted themselves both outside the company's room and outside the inn itself, keeping strict watch and notice of all who entered the establishment. The company quickly found they had become prisoners of their own making, none of them allowed to leave for any reason. The inn's keeper protested this occupation of his business but the Vivec guard was total law within the city. The innkeeper relented just as quickly, knowing he could easily be jailed for obstruction.

With everyone stuck in their room until the guard deemed otherwise, Caius took this moment to give Zayden one last refresher of the Great Houses and its members. He was pleased to see Zayden had all but perfected his lessons. Hui once more returned to his books and magic studies and everyone had trouble sleeping that evening.

The next morning there came a harsh knock at the door. The city ordinators let themselves into the room and ordered everyone to get ready to leave. They explained that late the previous night, with all three of the Great Houses councils finally assembled, they all agreed to meet with the bearer of Moon-and-Star. Zayden would be escorted under guard thoughout his stay within the city and was presently asked which house he wished to see first. Zayden picked House Telvanni and after several minutes of preparation the company was ready and was escorted out of the inn.

Zayden asked the guard if the crowds from yesterday had dispersed. He received a scoff in reply and nothing else. A real answer would come moments later when the group stepped back outside into the company of even more guards. The crowd of citizenry seemed to have not gone away and in fact significantly grew. The air filled with voices when Zayden stepped into vision. The combined ordinators formed another perimeter around Zayden and company, the guard from earlier informing the rest they were to march toward the Telvanni Canton.

At threat of shield and spear the crowd parted to allow the guards and their escortees through. A tight perimeter was kept but people nevertheless attempted to push through if only to catch their own fleeting glimpse of Zayden. The guards headed south around the Foreign Quarter and across the bridge to the Redoran Canton before heading east. People on adjacent walkways and on the docks on the water below stopped to watch the procession pass by. People walking on the upper walkways and bridges witnessed from a bird's eye view.

From the Redoran Canton they crossed another bridge to the Arena Canton and began to circle around its perimeter to the other side. When the group turned another corner and the Telvanni canton finally came into view a flash of light burst in front of the group. Gasps and screams emanated from the crowd and all the ordinators quickly unsheathed their weapons. But just as quickly as the weapons came out they were sheathed when the guard realized what had happened.

"Master Aryon," greeted one of the guards. Zayden instantly recognized the name. He turned and met the gaze of Caius's helmet goggles and he nodded back. "A pleasure to be visited by you. But what brings you here? Should you not be in your house chambers?"

"I wish to speak with the Nerevarine now," a voice answered, "_before_ he meets with the rest of the house. He is here, yes?"

The guard nodded and the perimeter parted in the front revealing the man behind the voice. It was a younger looking Dunmer man with an oddly cut head of black hair and a teal blue robe with many golden tassels. He stepped into the perimeter and approached Zayden directly. "Good morning, Nerevarine. 'Zayden,' yes?" Zayden nodded back. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am-"

"Master Aryon," Zayden interrupted, "Master rank of House Telvanni alongside Mistress Dratha, Master Neloth, and Mistress Therana, all serving under Archmagister Gothren."

Aryon grinned with amusement. "You come prepared with knowledge. This is commendable… I sensed your approach to our canton and hoped to have a word with you, and to give you warning…" Zayden tensed up but said nothing. "The Archmmagister and the other masters have already assembled in the tower in the plaza and await your arrival… Tell me, how prepared do you think you are, Nerevarine? How sure are you that you will receive the rest of the council's endorsement?"

Zayden gave Caius a second glance before answering. "If I may speak frankly," Zayden answered, "I am not entirely certain. I understand Mistress Dratha holds disdain toward men of all races, but Divayth Fyr reassured me previously that House Telvanni would uphold my request to be named Hortator with relative ease. He believed House Telvanni is largely unconcerned with the Nerevarine Prophecy and whether or not it be fulfilled. I have been banking on this position to make my case on."

Again Aryon nodded and grinned once again. "My former mentor is not wrong to think so. _Mostly_ not wrong. That is why I am here… I've come to warn you that Archmagister Gothren will refuse your request."

"What? Why?"

"It is because you are an Imperial outlander. He will never accept a 'dog'- no offence- to represent House Telvanni. I've also come to warn you that the Archmagister will not directly refuse your request. He will delay his vote indefinitely and without unanimous consent from the council the vote will never be concluded. Even if the rest of the council agrees to your request, Gothren and Gothren alone will deny you the title of Telvanni Hortator."

"Then speaking to the council will be pointless?" Zayden asked. "Is this what you've come to warn me of?"

"So long as Gothren is a part of House Telvanni you will never be named Hortator. But I come with a solution to your problem." Master Aryon took another step forward and brought himself closer to Zayden. "If _I_ may speak frankly, Nerevarine, I am somewhat of an outcast within my house. Many of my compatriots outside the council see the coming of the Nerevarine as the forbearer of the Empire's invasion of Morrowind. They are concerned about its influence to our way of life, but I see things differently. I see a future where House Telvanni and the Empire can coexist, and I believe the other Masters can be persuaded to see things my way. You will obviously have my vote… But not Gothren's… I therefore recommend he be killed."

"Killed?!" Zayden balked. "You want me to kill your Archmagister?!"

"It would be a perfectly legal act within our house. And with Gothren eliminated I would ascend to the rank of Archmagister and the council vote will become unanimous. You would be named Hortator!"

"Master Aryon, I do not think-"

"There is no other way, Nerevarine. If you wish to be named Hortator, Gothren must die. Do you accept my terms? If so, speak now, and tell me how it will be done. I will assist in any way I can."

Zayden's mind began to race with dread, believing his journey finished before it truly began. "If I accept what you say is true, and Gothren must die, you can not expect me to do it. I am no murdrer, and I can not believe I could best him in fighting, given his skill as a wizard… Wait… You spoke of Divayth Fyr as your mentor? Is it possible for you to contact him before my arrival? Do you think _he…?_"

"Perhaps," said Master Aryon slowly, understanding what Zayden was requesting. "It would be a simple matter of teleporting a letter to him. But you do really believe _he_ would aid us in this? Fyr, for all his brilliance and might, never involves himself in house politics."

"Please, Master Aryon, _try_," Zayden pleaded. "It's just a feeling, but I think he would be willing to aid us. We have nothing to lose from trying."

"Very well, Nerevarine, I shall try. Take a few extra minutes to arrive in Telvanni Plaza and by then the message will be sent. Whether or not he responds will be left into the hands of fate. Farewell, and until we next meet, Nerevarine." Master Aryon took a pair of steps backwards and disappeared in another woosh of sparks.

The ordinators wordlessly reshaped their perimeter around Zayden and company and quickly resumed their march over the next bridge into the Telvanni Canton. At Zayden's request the ordinators went at a slightly slower clip, creating the time Master Aryon needed. They proceeded up the covered walkways leading up the side of the canton to the pyramid's flat top and entered. With the news of the Nerevarine's arrival the plaza was naturally more populated than it normally would have been. The plaza itself, domed underneath blue-green glass, held a few residential buildings for high officials, doorways to some house vaults, but was primarily dominated by the presence of a small tower made from familiar mushroom growth, one that twisted and rose through the ceiling and sunk its base and roots deep into the floor and levels alone.

The company was urged into the tower and the ordinators remained outside the door and stood watch. Stepping inside, the interior of the tower seemed larger than its outside would have suggested. They were met within by a hireling, a lowest ranking member of House Telvanni, and led the group down a winding walkway that spiraled downward to a different corridor that opened up into a wide round room with bumpy vaulted ceiling studded in similar large glowing violet crystals Zayden saw in Tel Fyr. They bathed the entire room in their light.

Around the room's perimeter was a half-ring table where the Telvanni council, consisting of its five most senior members, sat equally spaced. To Zayden's left were Masters Neloth and Aryon, the latter giving Zayden a subtle nod of his head, his eyes looking slightly worried. To the right were Mistresses Therana and Dratha, none of whom looked particularly pleased at Zayden`s presence. And in the table's center was House Telvanni's Archmagister, Gothren. All council members, save for Aryon who was youngest, were Dunmer and looked similar to Divayth Fyr in that all had aged faced but powerful, youthful eyes. The same four members wore robes of matching fashion seemingly crafted half of fine cloth and half from the same organic growth of the towers themselves.

"Step into the center of the room," Archmagister Gothren urged Zayden. Caius, Hui, and Jeed-Ei remained along the room's wall as the Imperial stepped into the center of the half-ring. Already he could feel the weight of powerful eyes baring down upon him, watching and judging him. Gothren resumed. "Please state your name and affiliations for the record."

"Zayden," he answered, "Blackcap of the Guild of Thieves."

"You come before us claiming to be 'Nerevarine,' incarnate of Hortator Indoril Nerevar?"

"Only the Ashlanders can truly declare me thus. I do not make their claim."

"Yet is it not true that yesterday, two city ordinators wore a ring you bore, a ring you claimed was the true 'One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star' and died as a result?"

"This is true," Zayden sighed.

"You come before us desiring to be named 'Hortator' by House Telvanni?" Zayden nodded. "To what end do you seek this titilage?"

"To fulfill the Nerevarine Prophecy, the defeat of Dagoth Ur, and to seek answers of the Tribunal and their crimes."

"Speak your case now, before the council."

Zayden paused and took one final deep breath before beginning. "Council of House Telvanni," he announced. "I have previously spent time amongst another of your order: Divayth Fyr. Though not of this council and divorced from much of house politics, his strength and belief in this house's ideals can not be denied." A subtle roll of the eyes came from both Mistresses but both of the Masters seemed to agree. "It was in our time together he was able to cure me of my contraction of Corprus and it was under his care and in his company I learned much of this house's importance. I must admit, of what I have learned, your ways are most alien. Your relentless study into the deeper mysteries of magic, coupled with your rejection of all hindering ethics and morality is frightening but all together admirable. It is for these reasons I wish, foremost, to make clear my neutral stance to your house."

The council exchanged brief, quizzical looks between its members before Master Neloth spoke up. "What is the purpose of this _flattery_, Imperial?" he shot across the room. "If you believe the title of Hortator can be bought with sweetened words alone-"

"My purpose is not to flatter," Zayden interrupted, "only to make clear to you, Master Neloth, and all others, that I wish to keep out of your affairs… It is a belief of House Telvanni and many others that the arrival of Indoril Incarnate, and by consequence the fall of the Tribunal Temple, will allow the Cyrodillic Empire to spread even further into Morrowind. As you all know they already plant their feet in Ebonheart, in forts scattered across Vvardenfell, and even with the creation of the Foreign Quarter in Vivec itself. One would be a fool not to believe that in the absence of the Temple their influence would not spread further. I have personally come to terms with this seeming inevitability in recent times myself. If the prophecy upon me holds true, I fear this future might be nigh."

Mistress Therana let her presence be known and slammed her hand once upon the table. "Now you come to us spreading doom!" she protested. "A doom your actions will create! Is this meant to persuade us to endorse you?!"

"I am here to make my promise to you and to House Telvanni and _if_ these things occur that I, as Hortator of House Telvanni, will pledge to all of my ability my promise to advocate for House Telvanni and allow it to remain exactly as it has always been: free to do as they wish and free from outside influence."

Again the council members exchanged glances, this time of mild approval. All except from Gothren, as Aryon warned. Aryon as well gave a look of unease toward Zayden. Aryon straightened himself in his chair and spoke up. "Blackcap Zayden," he addressed. "If the coming of the Empire is indeed an inevitability, is it truly wise to resist them forever? I commend your desire to maintain our house's integrity, truly. But perhaps cooperation-"

Already a collective moan of disapproval sounded from both mistresses and Master Neloth. "Typical male," Mistress Dratha chided, "cowering in the face of opposition! Master Aryon can be safely ignored, Imperial. He would see our house lessened by Imperial dogs! At least _you_ promise to keep our integrity, as little as your promise is worth… What trust can we put in _your_ words, _Imperial? _How can we be sure you do not act in the Empire's interests?"

"I have no love for the Empire," Zayden confessed. "It was by their hand I was forced to this land and the role I now find myself in. I've seen their cruelty first-hand. They are no 'brothers' to me… But to answer your concerns, Master Aryon, I am not ignorant to this. Again, I will advocate for House Telvanni's independence, but I recognize some form of cooperation might be unavoidable. If any must be done, and so long as it benefits House Telvanni, I will do so."

Gothen, for the first time, interjected himself in the discussion. "You offer much that contradicts," he criticized. "You speak of both maintaining House Telvanni's independence _and_ of the Empire's inevitable influence, only to _then _claim to see a happy medium between the two? I find this difficult to believe. If anything you seem to channel the delusions of Master Aryon. Why should we entertain these delusions any further by naming you Hortator?"

"... Archmagister, do you fear the Empire?"

Gothren snorted at the very question. "Only children fear dogs."

"Do you believe your order is strong enough to stave off their influence?"

"Of course. House Telvanni have withstood invasions and crises for eras. We have little to fear from this empire as it currently stands."

"Then you have nothing to lose in having me advocate for your house. Ignore me if you wish and defend your interests yourselves. Just name me Hortator."

Master Aryon, sensing a breakdown in the negotiations, raised a hand and stood up from his seat. "I think," he interjected, "the Imperial has made his point. If no one else wishes to ask anything further, I call for a vote." The other Masters nodded in agreement and Gothren, begrudgingly, agreed as well. "Very good. Mistress Therana, please begin." Aryon lowered back into his chair giving Zayden a glare out of the corner of his eye.

Therana, the oldest, most senile, and most powerful of the council- even surpassing in strength the Archmagister himself- considered her decision for a brief moment before replying. "His appointment would ultimately be inconsequential to me," she said. "I don't like his Empire doom, but what's said is said. For five hundred gold tribute he shall get my vote." Not precisely how Zayden imagined the response, but it was an endorsement nonetheless. Master Aryon then called on Mistress Dratha to cast her vote.

"One thousand gold tribute," she answered. "If he wants to be named Hortator so badly, he will have to sweat for it." As predicted, Dratha wore her disdain for men on her sleeve. Already the price for House Telvanni's support was growing high and Zayden began to fear how much higher it would reach. Master Aryon spoke next and gave his unconditional vote. Next came Master Neloth who, after a few grumbles demanded yet another five hundred for his vote.

Zayden looked back to his friends. Hui and Caius seemed to shift uneasily in their shoes. They too seemed perturbed at the rising cost, a sum that already none of the company put together could afford. Finally came the decision of the Archmagister, who wasted no time giving his response. "Your request is a difficult one to consider, Imperial, considering its contradictions in promises. I will require more time to think upon it. Perhaps once you return with the other member's tributes I will come to a decision more easily." Just as Aryon had warned; Gothren was stalling, and if what the Master said was true, his answer would never come. "With that, this vote remains inconclusive. I declare this meeting of the council adjourned. Please inform us, Zayden, when you have your payments ready. You are dismissed."

And that was that. All that effort for nothing. Zayden felt helpless but knew there was nothing more he could do this day. He gave the council a bow, thanked them for their time, and turned to leave the center of the room. But then, the moment he stepped out of the center of the half-ring table, a familiar flash of light filled the chamber. Zayden whipped back around and was met with a familiar sight.

"About time you moved!" said an irritated Divayth Fyr. "I was waiting forever! Couldn't use my recall spell until you moved out of the location of its mark. Trust me, I've seen people transport into each other and it is _not _ a pleasant sight." The Telvanni wizard now occupied the center of the room, flanked on both sides by all four of his daughter-wives. He gave Zayden a quick grin and nod before turning his attention to the council. "Forgive my late arrival," he greeted to them casually. "Would have arrived _before_ the proceedings but, you know, I got caught up in some work with Yagrum Bagarn. That Dwemer can really talk one's ear off. Truly starved for attention, that one. Makes sense, given his surroundings."

All five of the council members rose from their seats and all save for Aryon looked not at all pleased at Fyr's arrival. "And what compels you to grace us with your presence, Fyr?" asked Gothren. "This is a meeting of the high council, of which you are not a member! Why have you come?"

"I caught wind of the Nerevarine's arrival in Vivec, just like the rest of you. Wanted to pop in and see how things were going. I helped cure him of his Corprus, didn't you know? _Second__ Trial_ fulfilled, thank-you-very-much!"

"We are _aware_, Fyr. What we are _not_ aware of is why you inject yourself in matters that do not concern you."

"And why bring your concubine daughters, Fyr!?" Dratha added. "They have even _less_ place here!"

"I'd much prefer you didn't refer to my daughters as whores, Dratha," Fyr chided. "Except for Beyte, the horny minx she is. But I brought them because I know you'd enjoy their company _so much_," Divayth taunted, making Dratha look ready to kill. "But this is all so very beside the point. So someone, tell me, has a decision already been made? Has the Imperial been named Hortator?" Fyr's question was met with silence. "No? Well what's the hold up!?"

"I have yet to make my decision," Archmagister Gothren stated. "All but Master Aryon offer their vote in exchange for gold tribute. So as it stands the vote is in limbo."

"So you're the hold-out, Archmagister? Master Aryon was correct in his letter, then."

The Archmagister's glaring eyes quickly fell upon Aryon. "Are you responsible Fyr's appearance, Master Aryon?" he asked him. "Explain yourself!"

Before Master Aryon could answer Divayth Fyr approached the Archmagister and stood before him across the table. "Never mind him, for a moment. I'm calling the shots right now… Be honest, Gothren, you're stalling. You have no real intention of naming this man Hortator, do you?" Gothren's silence was all the answer Fyr needed. "I urge you to reconsider."

"Why should I?" Gothren asked Fyr. "Because you have befriended this outlander?"

"Don't be a fool, Archmagister. This man bears 'One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star!' No 'incarnate' before has ever worn the ring and lived. What's more is what I sensed during his time in my tower. I felt… _something._ I sensed this man may see this prophecy to its end… This Imperial may still die. He may yet fall, yes, but what have you to lose by not granting him the title?"

Gothren slammed a fist upon the table in fury. "I will _not_ take part in allowing a mongrel become the Nerevarine!" he declared.

"Ah-ha! And that's the _real_ reason, isn't it? _Also_ as Master Aryon warned me."

Again Gothren's anger flared. "My decision is final, Fyr! I will _not_ name this dog Telvanni Hortator. You are in no position to change it!"

Fyr seemed eerily calm in the face of his opposition. "Is that so?" he replied. "Have you been Archmagister for so long that you have forgotten what House you lead? Rank, ultimately, means nothing in House Telvanni, and _you_ are not the most powerful wizard in this room. _I_ am in no position? No, Gothren, I think _you_ are in no position to reject _my_ will."

Slowly, Gothren straightened his posture. "Are you threatening me, Fyr?"

"I'm giving you one final choice for life. Name this man 'Hortator' or you forfeit it."

Archmagister Gothren, distracted by both Divayth Fyr and his own boiling rage, failed until that precise moment to realize that Master Aryon had positioned himself behind Gothren, his glowing, open palms aimed at his back. He slowly turned his head around to look Aryon in the eye over his shoulder. "I should have known you would do this, Master Aryon. Imperial boot-licker!" He turned back to face Divayth Fyr. "So, it's treason then?"

"No such thing exists within House Telvanni, fool. If you have forgotten this and you've rendered yourself so vulnerable to be overthrow, perhaps a change in leadership is required." The Archmagister's eyes grew wide and words failed to pass his lips. "Step down as Archmagister, Gothren, and we will make it painless."

"... Never," Gothren whispered. "Never! NEVER!"

Master Aryon threw his hands forward and blue bolts of lightning flowed from his fingertips into Gothern's back. The surge instantly seized his body and rendered all his muscles convulsing. The moment this occurred, upon witnessing this murder, a vision flashed in Zayden's mind, one similar in feeling to the one he received upon first putting on Moon-and-Star. He saw what looked like an ordinator being pierced and run through from behind by a spear. With the sight brought a similar pain through his own chest. But when Zayden focused on the ordinator's golden face he realized it was no mask but the elf's actual face. It was the face of Indoril. Zayden was witnessing his past self's murder.

Divayth Fyr reached out with a hand and placed it in the center of Gothren's chest, sending a second, more powerful spell through the Dunmer's heart. Gothren made no gasps or screams of pain as the lightning coursed through his body and killed him. When the spells lifted, his smoldering corpse fell forward and struck the table with a heavy thud.

Jeed-Ei gave a gasping cry before burying her face into Hui's chest, Hui enveloping his arms around her shoulders. Neither he nor Caius nor anyone else in the room spoke for a long moment. Zayden looked to the other council members and saw little in the way of regret or sympathy in their eyes. It truly was as Fyr said; in House Telvanni, might makes right. A waft of burning flesh reached Zayden's nose and instantly turned his stomach into knots. Terror quickly filled his veins and Zayden decided the sooner he could leave this place the better.

Master Aryon was the first to finally speak. "I call for a second vote, to name myself, Aryon, new Archmagister of House Telvanni." The vote, Zayden knew, was unnecessary, as the promotion would now be automatic upon Gothren's death. Nevertheless the remaining council members gave their "Ayes" and elected Aryon as Archmagister.

"Very well. Thank you," said the new Archmagister. "Now, as my first act as Archmagister, I call to resume the vote to name Blackcap Zayden 'Hortator' of House Telvanni for the task of fulfilling the Nerevarine prophecy. I reiterate that I give my unconditional vote. Do any wish to amend their previous votes?" All remaining three shook their heads.

"Then I declare the vote unanimous. Blackcap Zayden, upon your payment of tribute, this body shall name you Hortator of our house."

Zayden was still feeling sick but still managed to force himself to bow. "Thank you for this honor," said Zayden. "H-However, I fear I do not have the two thousand to give at this time. Some can be paid now but-"

"Two thousand?" Divayth Fyr echoed. "If that is all that was asked, I will cover the amount in full. On one condition, _Hortator._ You owe me an artifact for my collection. And it had better be a worthy one."

Zayden now found his head beginning to spin. This man, Divayth Fyr, had just murdered in cold blood his superior and now spoke to Zayden and others like nothing had happened. The image of the friendly, eccentric wizard was gone, replaced with something much more terrifying. Zayden then remembered he was in a room with four equally remorseless creatures. The vision of Gothren's murder flashed in his eyes once more. "... Deal," Zayden finally managed to croak. Indeed, the quicker he could leave the better.

Archmagister Aryon motioned to the hireling and called him over. He whispered a command to him and he rushed off, returning a pair of minutes later with a large roll of black cloth. The roll was placed on the table and unfurled revealing an exquisite gold and copper robe inside, its threads subtly shimmering with magic.

"Step forward, Hortator Zayden," Aryon announced. Divayth Fyr and his daughters parted and allowed the Imperial to step forward back into the center of the room. "This robe shall be the gift of our house onto you. May it be a symbol of your appointment as Telvanni Hortator. House Telvanni wishes you success in your quest."

Aryon rolled the cloth back up and placed it in Zayden's awaiting arms. Again Zayden bowed and thanked the council before turning and heading back toward the entrance they had come from. By that time Jeed-Ei had managed to unbury her head and she, Caius, and Hui gave Zayden a reassuring smile. But Zayden, his face frozen, walked right past all of them and began heading back up the winding stairwell, leaving the others to catch up. They called Zayden's name, asking him to stop, but the Imperial did not.

It was not until halfway up the stairwell that someone managed to catch up with Zayden. The Imperial felt a hand upon his shoulder and, fueled on instinct, he dropped his roll of cloth, reached for his dagger-club and spun around to swing it. His arm was caught effortlessly by Divayth Fyr, who casually took the weapon from Zayden's hand and examined its deceptively simple design. "Careful who you start swinging this thing at," Fyr joked. "That might have hurt me."

Zayden snatched the weapon back and stumbled backwards, his eyes still wide with fright and shifting rapidly. Hui, Jeed-Ei, and Caius finally caught up with Zayden and were surprised to find Fyr ahead of them, then questioned why Zayden looked so frightened. Hui managed to get Zayden back on his feet and, after taking a minute to breathe, Zayden explained his vision.

"As Gothren was being murdered…" Zayden's eyes shifted back to Divayth Fyr and back off him. "I saw another vision. A memory of Indoril! I saw his murder, pierced through the back by a spear!"

"The spear of Vivec," Fyr explained. "'Muatra.' Be calm, Hortator. It was only a vision, one of a past life. No one here is going to harm you."

Zayden nodded and took another moment to steady himself. He hefted his cloth roll back up and breathed deep. "Yes, of course… Fyr, is killing common within the Telvanni ranks? I ran after witnessing you and Aryon kill Gothren so mercilessly."

"You needn't worry about Gothren," said Fyr. "He was a fool. Everyone on the council wanted him dead secretly, not just Aryon. Don't mourn him."

"Answer my question, Fyr. Is murder amongst the Telvanni common?"

"... Common enough," Fyr answered. "More common among the lower ranks: Heirlings, Retainers, Oathman. Much less common amongst the upper ranks. In fact, I can't remember the last time an Archmagister was killed. Most are not dumb enough to let themselves get knocked off. Again, don't mourn Gothren. If he let himself get killed he no longer deserved the position."

"I-I'm not judging you and your house. I understand you have your ways, extreme as they are. Even if I wanted to speak against them, it would not be my place to do so, even as Hortator."

"Indeed. But let's get off that for a moment, Hortator. I was hoping to conduct a follow-up on my Corprus cure. Anything to report?"

"Well… None I can think of. I don't think I've noticed anything different about me since leaving Tel Fyr."

"What about your strength and stamina? Your results were 'Type 4,' meaning the negative effects of the disease were reversed and its positive effects- namely an increase in strength and endurance- are maintained. Have you noticed any changes in those regards?"

"I've had little physical exertion since leaving. I haven't noticed a change."

"And concerning your she-elf. Have you two exchanged fluids yet? Anything to report there?"

Caius raised an eyebrow and gave Zayden an amused look, waiting to hear an answer. "W-We _have_," Zayden groaned with discomfort, "and there is also nothing to report. She didn't contract the disease."

"Splendid! That should please Yagrum to hear, at least. Get back to me on those other aspects when you have a chance to test them out. Maybe start a bar fight or beat up some homeless people. See how long you last. Well, farewell for now, Hortator. Good luck with the remaining houses." Fyr then turned and descended back down the stairwell leaving Zayden now feeling more perplexed than uneasy.

"Yes… Good to see you too, Fyr," Zayden whispered to himself. "... I don't think I'll ever fully understand the Telvanni _or_ Fyr," Zayden concluded.

"Perhaps it's for the best you don't," Hui added. "Fyr is a brilliant man, none can argue this. But not even I, once his student, consider him a role model."

"One moment he treats me as a friend, the next a test subject. It is truly for the best that I keep out of Telvanni affairs, if only for my personal safety."

The company nodded and grinned, amused. After another moment to allow Zayden to catch his breath everyone resumed their travel upwards back into the Telvanni Plaza. The ordinators had barely moved an inch from their spots and the crowd of onlookers had grown even larger. When Zayden emerged from behind the tower door the plaza filled with voices and the guard captain turned to greet the man and asked how the meeting fared. Zayden unfolded his bolt of cloth and revealed the Hortator Robe within it. Satisfied, he turned back to the crowd and announced that the Telvanni Hortator had been named.

The reaction from the crowd was mixed. While a few gave obvious cheers, most sounded with a sense of disbelief and awe, and even more with displeasure. This rejection Zayden had somewhat expected. He was, after all, within a city filled mostly with devotees of the Tribunal Temple. The presence of the Nerevarine, the sower of their religion's destruction, would naturally never be fully accepted.

The captain then asked Zayden to which house he wished to see next. Zayden chose House Hlaalu, but decided he would see their high council tomorrow, wanting presently to return to his room in the Foreign Quarter for the remainder of the day. The ordinators complied and the company was escorted back across the city. Once back within the safety of the room Caius once more conferred with Zayden their plan of action for garnering the merchant house's favor. Caius seemed unconcerned with Zayden's prospects. The Nerevarine Prophecy, as the two previously discussed, would invite the Empire and its influences to fill the vacuum of the Tribunal's loss. So long as Zayden advocated in Hlaalu's financial benefit, Caius argued, being named Hortator by the house would prove unchallenging. Zayden voiced no doubts and by that same day's evening he felt confident for the next morning.

Sleep came to Zayden easily that night. But before the next day came a bump in the night ripped Zayden from his slumber. Above his bed stood three figures. A single, small candle burned in the opposite side of the room and did nothing to illuminate the strangers' features. The figure in the center slowly raised its right hand, a jagged dagger clutched within its fingers. Zayden had barely enough time to reach out and knock the weapon away and voice a yelp before the other two grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned him back down on the bed. The first regained the grip of his weapon and raised it once more to strike.

The room suddenly filled with blue-white light. A stream of lightning magic shot across the room and struck the middle figure before arcing into the others. The attackers shook and convulsed in a way that was hauntingly similar to how Gothren was killed. Within a second the three collapsed to the ground. Hui rushed over to ask if Zayden was ok but the Imperial did not answer. His eyes were wide and locked onto the three dead attackers. Caius sprung from his bed and let a few more candles, the new light revealed their true identities of the attackers. All were strange, altered abominations. All three below their necks were male and Dunmer in appearance, dressed in regular clothing. It was the center of their faces where they were most drastically different. Two of them appeared to have their entire upper face scooped out creating a cauterized hole large enough to put one's hand into. The one that stood in the center that held the knife had protruding from his face hole a fleshy, foot long proboscis like that of a mammoth.

"What in Oblivion are these men?" Zayden exclaimed. "What happened to them?"

Caius walked over and knelt down to examine the bodies closer. "These are servants of Dagoth Ur," he explained. "These mer are unlike victims of Ur's corprus disease, who are mere mindless victims. These are members of Sixth House and carry out Ur's will. Their deformities are a mark of their devotion, with greater severity meaning higher status. I have seen only once Ur's faceless servants, but only ever heard of this." He pointed to the mer with the proboscis. "And I've heard rumor of things even worse…"

Zayden finally worked up the nerve to stand up from his bed and head toward the door. He slammed his fist thrice but received no response from the other side. He called out to the ordinators but again heard back nothing. When he finally opened the door he found the two guards slain and lying in small pools of their own blood. Zayden yelled down the hallway and two more ordinators arrived immediately, they just as shocked to see the dead guards as well.

Zayden, Hui, and Caius explained to the Ordinators everything that had just happened and the guards were at a loss for explanation. They had been posted at the inn's front entrance all last night and knew everyone and any_thing_ that could have entered the inn. How these three had entered under their noses was a mystery.

More ordinators were called in and all five of the bodies were taken away, stating that an investigation of the attackers would begin immediately. Zayden and company found sleep impossible for the remainder of the night and by morning, at Hui's suggestion, they left the inn for another place to take up residence within Vivec City. The city ordinators agreed and by that afternoon new living quarters were procured in the St. Delyn Canton. Security for the Nerevarine was doubled and access to the residential area was intensely regulated. Nevertheless the news of the attack quickly spread through Vivec and by evening a messenger from House Hlaalu, under heavy guard and observation, was escorted to the Telvanni Hortator's new quarters. The messenger passed onto Zayden a single letter and was promptly led away.

Zayden opened the letter and read its contents at first in silence, a growing look of confusion upon his face as the text reached its end. Caius and Hui demanded to know what the letter said so Zayden read the letter aloud.

"To Zayden, newly elected Hortator of House Telvanni," Zayden recited. "The news of your attack has reached myself and the high council of House Hlaalu. We wish to extend to you and your party our deepest sympathies at this disturbing turn of events and our greatest relief to hear of your safety and well being thereafter. We wish you continued safety in the days ahead and await your arrival in our council chambers to discuss the next step in your journey in fulfilling the Nerevarine prophecy. However, given this unexpected turn of events, we of the Hlaalu high council, rather than force you to put yourself into further danger, graciously offer you an alternative to secure our endorsement as Hlaalu Hortator.

Stated below are the demands of our Great House's highest ranking members. Upon payment of all listed tributes, House Hlaalu will immediately elect you our Hortator. It is the opinion of myself and the high council that this option be taken in lue of a face-to-face meeting, for sake of your safety as well as given your history and current guild affiliations. We hope to receive your reply soon and wish you well in your journey.

Signed, Duke Vedam Dren, Grandmaster of House Hlaalu."

Zayden lowered the letter to see the reactions of the others. Hui seemed slightly confused by the message while Caius grinned in amusement as if he expected this to happen. "This sounds rather odd," Hui commented. "It seems as if they don't care about you at all. And what was that remark about? 'Current guild affiliations.' Why bring that up at all?"

"Isn't is obvious?" Zayden answered. "The vaults of House Hlaalu were robbed by the Thieves Guild not many weeks ago, and I have made it no secret I am a member of that guild."

"But has House Hlaalu confirmed that it was the Thieves Guild that did it? Have they had any proof? And how can they put the blame on you? You had no involvement."

"It doesn't matter to them if they have proof. Only the Thieves Guild could have accomplished such a heist and they know it. They know me as a member and if I go before them they will hold me responsible, evidence and proof be damned. This letter is basically extortion to get my money so they can give their endorsement and brush me aside."

"Sounds right up your alley of work," Hui half-joked.

"Hmm. Yes, to be fair, it is, and I won't condemn them for the act. But not even the Thieves Guild would extort for such ridiculous amounts! Here, listen to these demands." Zayden read off the council members and each of their requested tributes. "Yngling Half-Troll, two thousand gold. Dram Bero, two thousand gold. Nevena Ules, two thousand gold. Velanda Omani, two thousand gold! Crassius Curio- actually, most bizarrely, he only asks, and I quote, for 'a kiss on the cheek.' That's it, nothing else."

Hui grew even more baffled by the moment. Caius, meanwhile, broke out into a moment of laughter. "I warned you of Crassius and his eccentricities," Caius chuckled.

"Yes, I remember," Zayden groaned, "but this all pales to the Grandmaster himself. He alone asks for _three_ thousand! Damn these bankers! Eleven thousand all together! That would bleed the Balmora bureau dry in an instant! What do they expect of me!?"

"They're hoping you take the path of least resistance, for the both of you. And I think we should take it."

"Caius? What are you saying? You know we don't have this kind of money!"

"I hadn't expected this… I always assumed Hlaalu would not care about you being a thief. But now it seems they're willing to use it against you. I fear they have the upper hand in this fight. It might be best to give them what they want. It may take some time-"

"Oblivion to 'time!'" Zayden interrupted. "Oblivion to their money! They just made this personal. I spent the last years of my life breaking myself to rise within the Thieves Guild. I will not have money-loving _bankers_ hold that against me! I will _not_ let myself be racketeered by bankers! That's _my job!_" Zayden walked over to the nearest candle in the room and set the letter aflame. "House Hlaalu will deal with me tomorrow and they will name me Hortator without receiving a single damn coin!"


	14. House Hlaalu

Chapter 14: House Hlaalu

Zayden's newfound indignation toward House Hlaalu stoked his emotional state through much of the remainder of the evening. Fueled by this new energy, Zayden was determined to get himself and his friends drunk. He first tried to ask the ordinators outside the room's door to allow him to quickly swoop down to the market and fetch a bottle of Sujamma, promising that he would give them a few extra coins for their trouble. The request was immediately shot down, the guard reiterating that the Hortator and company was to be strictly protected. Zayden then suggested sending one of the ordinators to the market instead. The guard told him to go back inside and shut up. Just as Zayden then began to devise an escape plan, Caius had to calm Zayden down and remind his fellow Imperial that he still had some flin in one of his water skins. He promised to share it if, by morning, he would calm down and rethink his crusade against House Hlaalu. Zayden agreed and, although slightly soured, the flin was potent enough to last the four into the night.

The company was awoken the next morning by the city ordinators bringing everyone breakfast. As Zayden was getting ready to set off in the early afternoon Jeed-Ei began to act worried. She talked to Hui and he explained to the others about a name she heard last night in the letter. "Dren." The family name of the Grandmaster, one shared with the plantation both she and Hui were held in. Jeed-Ei was too frightened to be near a man bearing the name of Dren and wanted Hui to stay with her. Explaining that the plantation was owned by the Grandmaster's brother and that Duke Vedam would not recognize either she or Hui made no difference. Hui was eventually forced to remain in the quarters with Jeed-Ei as Zayden and Caius went on their own.

The golden guards once more provided heavy escort and protection and it was not long before crowds of onlookers followed. The ordinators seemed even more stern and no nonsense than before, if it were possible. While understandable, given the very recent attack, it made Zayden feel even less an honored guest of the city and more a child being dragged by a leash.

Caius reasserted himself as Zayen's teacher, asking fistly if his temper from the previous night had vanished. Zayden laughed and stated that it had, though he wished his hangover went as well. Caius then asked what Zayden had planned, if he was both unable and unwilling to pay his tributes. His answer was to meet with one of the high council and make his case to go forward with a meeting anyway. He knew that one member, Crassius Curio, owned a manor in the Hlaalu Canton itself. That was where they were heading.

Caius's only recommendation on dealing with Crassius was oddly to "be yourself," explaining that Crassius was an eccentric and very openly amorous person who would most likely find Zayden attractive. Given his previous request for a "kiss on the cheek" Zayden did not find that surprising. Caius's final piece of advice was to try to appease the man as much as possible and "make him feel special."

The two men and escort crossed north into the Redoran Canton before heading west and into Hlaalu territory. There they ascended similar stairwells and walkways until they reached the canton plaza atop. Within the plaza the architecture was much more contemporary, free of the presence of the great mushroom growth of the previous canton. Signs and cloth banners marked various shops and the location of the very same Hlaalu bank Zeela helped heist months ago. Zayden and Caius quickly found what they were really looking for, it being one of the few unmarked doors of the plaza.

Zayden promptly knocked on the door of the manor only to receive no immediate answer. After a pair of minutes he knocked again and was met by a member of the manor's help, a Redguard man dressed like a noble who carried himself in a stiff, professional manner. He asked what the meaning of this early visit was and Zayden quickly introduced himself.

"I am Zayden, Blackcap of the Guild of Thieves, and newly named Telvanni Hortator."

"Ah yes, of course. A pleasure to meet you… And this one?" he then asked, pointing to the fully armored "Ashlander."

"He is my personal protection. He can be trusted. Is your master, Crassius Curio, currently within? I wish to speak with him."

"R-Right now? Well, the high council is not set to convene today, Hortator, sir."

"I know. Which is why I am here now. I had hoped to speak with your master about just that. Is he available now or not?"

"Well, perhaps not. He is in the middle of a bath, currently, and while my master would not mind the company, perhaps you two would not wish to see him in such a disrobed state?"

"O-Oh, I see. Well in that case-"

"We would _love_ to see him currently," Caius interrupted, giving his friend a sharp jab in the side. "Isn't that _right_, Zayden?"

"... Yes, of course," Zayden groaned.

"Oh? Truly?" asked the Redguard. "In that case follow me. His chambers are below."

The interior of Crassius's manor matched his rumored eccentricity. All the furniture, while built and arranged logically, was painted and embellished in gaush fashion. Not a single article went undecorated, the walls of the main rooms adored with large and detailed murals of hedonistic parties and orgies. Apart from the Redguard, much of the manor's servants and help were exclusively female and Argonian, making Zayden glad he chose not to force Jeed-Ei along.

The Redguard led the two Imperials down to a lower level and to the large door of the master bedroom. He knocked thrice and spoke to the other side. "Master Crassius?" asked the Redguard. "You have a special visitor: the newly elected Telvanni Hortator. If this is a bad moment-"

"Send him in, dear!" a voice from the other side called back.

The Redguard opened the door and the two passed through into the opulent bedroom. Near its center was Crassius Curio himself, his back turned, and completely naked. He was a middle-aged Imperial with plump figure and dark brown hair. He stood in a metal tub of steaming hot water and was attended to by two female Argonians, each soaking a cloth and washing the man from head to toe.

Crassius peeked over his left shoulder at his new company and gave Zayden an appreciative grin. "They were not wrong. You _are_ a cool drink to take in." He turned himself around and made no effort to shield his manhood from view. "Welcome to my abode, Hortator. You and your Ashlander." The two bowed and thanked Crassius. "I trust you are here to discuss payment? You can give me _my_ payment right now, if you wish," he chuckled.

Zayden straightened his posture. "Yes, about the council tributes… I burned your letter after reading it."

"Oh?" voiced Crassius, raising a curious eyebrow. "Why do something silly like that, pumpkin?"

"I hoped to renegotiate the terms, either with you or the entire high council, if necessary."

Crassius signaled to the two Argonians and they began to dry him off. "That might be difficult to do, even from me, as cute as you are. What exactly do you object to?"

"T-The amount! Perhaps you have forgotten just how much eleven thousand gold is, your home as lavishly adorned as it is?" Caius stepped toward Zayden, a moment away from warning him not to insult Crassius. But the Hlaalu was quick to retort.

"I enjoy the pleasures and the finer things in life, yes. Especially when it comes to sex and love making. But I am no fool. The price we all gave was not done out of ignorance. Perhaps you, sugar, haven't heard of the heist on our bank vault not long ago?"

"No, I haven't," Zayden lied. "That sounds regrettable, but how does that concern me?"

"We have reason to believe that the operation was conducted by members of your guild, _thief_. Some of whom operated out of Balmora, our house's capital city." When speaking in strictly business terms, Crassius's tone switched from light and flirtatious to measured and formal. "We think it was someone you knew personally. A cutie in her own right. Tomboy of a Dark Elf… Ring any bells, honey?"

Zayden tensed but kept as straight a face as he could. "Do you have a single shred of evidence to support your claim?" he asked Crassius.

"No,but we don't need any. And the whole council suspects as I do. And suspects you are tangentially involved. But House Hlaalu are not fools and we are willing to overlook your connection and affiliation for a price. We lost a lot of money during that heist and it will take a long time to make back our losses. Unless, of course, you pay your tributes."

"So this _is_ blackmail, then?" said Zayden. "Your house were fools enough to let themselves be robbed and now you want me to pay for your incompetence? No deal. I demand to speak with the council and make my case for Hlaalu Hortator."

By this time Crassius was completely dried and the Argonian maids began dressing the man in cobalt shirt and pants of fine silk. Once finished the two were dismissed and Crassius retreated to a liquor cabinet and began mixing up three small colorful drinks. "If you insist, pumpkin," Crassius sighed. "I think you're making a mistake, but I suppose I can't change your mind." He finished his drink making and brought one over to both Caius and Zayden. "I can call a meeting of the high council and have it assembled at around noon. But I'll still need something from _you_, sweetie."

"Huh? What do you-? Oh, yes, your tribute. 'A kiss on the cheek.'" Zayden drank his drink in a single gulp and found it strong but sickeningly sweet. "Very well, if it must be done…" Zayden leaned forward but was quickly stopped by Crassius placing an index finger upon his lips.

"Oh, no no no," Crassius playfully taunted. "After coming into my manor and interrupting my bath, a simple peck won't do it. I'll require a bit more than that now."

"What? But Crassius-"

"Please, call me 'Uncle Crassius.'"

"... _Uncle_ Crassius… what do you want now?" Zayden asked, dreading the possible answer.

"Hmmm…" The Imperial pondered for a moment, taking a long sip of his own drink, before finally replying. "Your conduct thus far has disappointed me, pumpkin. Now I don't know what to make of you anymore. I want to see what you're made of, Zayden. I want… a peek."

"... A peek of what?"

"_You._ You and your Ashlander. Everything you got underneath all this scary armor and weapons. I want to see you two laid bare, just as the day you were born. If I like what I see I might change my position."

"Are you insane?! You want us to strip naked for you?!" Crassius grinned and took a step back, awaiting his request. "Well forget it! Coming here was a waste of time. Come on, Caius, we're-" Zayden turned to Caius to find that he had already taken off his helmet and was beginning to undo his scarf and the waist straps of his armor. "Caius, what in Oblivion are you doing!?"

"I already warned you about this," said Caius, giving Zayden a strongly irritated glance from the corner of his eye. "You refuse to pay the tribute and demand a meeting, and the only way to do this is to get on good terms with Uncle Crassius. Now do what the man says and strip before I break your nose!"

Crassius, while all this was going on, was chuckling away and enjoying the spectacle. "Oh-ho! So the Ashlander is no elf at all! And he wears the pants in this relationship. How entertaining! You had better do as your master tells you, _Hortator. _Ha-ha-ha!" Zayden, meanwhile, felt like killing everyone in the room. This somehow felt more humiliating than the punishment he received from Sugar-Lips. At least _she_ never made him strip naked for South Wall's patrons.

Zayden gave an even louder groan before finally relenting. "Fine!" he said to Crassius. "But keep your hands- or any other part of your body- to yourself! Or it gets lopped off!"

Crassius giggled and sucked more of his sugar-water down. "Oh, what fire on your tongue! I love it! Please let your body be as hardened as your attitude. What a complete package it would make!"

Zayden groaned and moaned the entire way through but eventually he rendered himself fully undressed, Caius along with him. Once they both finished Crassius took a long time walking around the two, giving thoughtful "Hmm"s as he inspected their bodies. He found particular interest in Zayden's scar-filled back and how physically fit Caius was in spite of his age. It felt like an eternity before the man seemed to be finished looking.

"I take back what I said about you, sweetie," Crassius said to Zayden. "My disappointment in you has been forgiven. Both of your bodies have been well worth my time. You may dress." Zayden didn't need to be told twice. Once he and Caius were clad Crassius continued. "I will send correspondence to the other members of the high council for a meeting. We hold meetings here, in my manor, back on the floor you enter onto. This was meant to be a rest day for them, so they may not be too happy about being called back in for work."

"Let me deal with them," said Zayden. "But can I count on your vote, Cra- _Uncle_ Crassius?"

"Certainly, honey-bun. Now, there will be at least a few more hours until the council is assembled. There is a guest room down the hall at your disposal with maids to fulfill your _every_ desire. Stay as honored guests."

Zayden and Caius thanked Crassius for his hospitality and left the master bedroom. The same Redguard from before had remained outside the door the entire time and immediately showed the two guests the way to their temporary room. It was large and as eccentrically furnished as the rest of the manor, a tapestry depicting an orgy between orcs and Malacath draped across a long wall. There was a fully stocked dry bar to distract from the decorations, though Caius limited how much Zayden could drink before the council meeting. The promise of maids seemed to be a fib.

A few purposefully weak drinks, a cigar, and a final discussion of strategy passed the next few hours. Eventually the Redguard returned and escorted the two men back up a level of the manor and to a long room near the back. The room was arranged like a dining room with a long, sturdy table situated in its center. Knowing what Zayden knew of the high council members, the table was split between what could be called a "criminal line." On the table's left were members Zayden understood to skirt the law, they being Dunmer women; the young Nevena Ules and the old Velanda Omani. On the table's right were three men, two of them being the more "law abiding" of the sort, they being Crassius Curio himself and a male Dunmer named Dram Bero. Additionally a tall, muscular Nord named Yngling Half-Troll sat on the table's right, though his corrupt status was unknown to Zayden. All were dressed in fine silk clothing but the Nord, in addition to the silk, wore the pelt of an entire small bear draped over his shoulders like a cloak.

All these people were rank Councilman of House Hlaalu, and sitting at the opposite end of the table, dressed finest of all, was their Grandmaster Duke Vedam Dren, a fierce looking Dunmer man who eyed Zayden from across the room as he entered. All at once the high council of House Hlaalu rose to greet Zayden with a bow before the Grandmaster asked him and everyone to take their seat. When asked about the Ashlander Zayden explained that he was a type of advisor and asked that he be allowed to stay. The Grandmaster disagreed and Caius was ordered to leave the room.

"This meeting of the high council of House Hlaalu is called to order," Duke Vedam announced. Servants of Crassius entered the room and began serving drinks and fine finger foods to the table. All members of House Hlaalu stated themselves "present" before Vedam continued. "Thank you all for coming on such short notice, though I think we all understand this is mostly Crassius's doing."

"At the request of our honored guest," Crassius stipulated.

"Indeed. We share our table with honored guest Zayden, Hortator of House Telvanni and self-proclaimed Blackcap of the Thieves Guild. This meeting is called to discuss the electing of Zayden as Hortator of House Hlaalu. May Zayden repeat to the council what he divulged to Councilman Crassius prior to now?"

"Yes," said Zayden. "I had received the prior night your list of tribute requests. I found the collective amount beyond my capacity to pay and, furthermore, an insult. I reject the request and wish to renegotiate the terms."

"On what grounds do you deem this an 'insult?' And what do you hope to gain by this attempt at renegotiation?"

Now came Zayden's moment to make his case. The Imperial slowly rose from his seat and began. "Members of House Hlaalu, it is clear to me why you have decided to levy this extra-ordinarily high fee upon me. Your letter made it abundantly clear that it is for my current guild affiliation with the Thieves Guild. The heist upon your bank vault is not unknown to me, as is your _suspicion_ that it was orchestrated by the Thieves Guild. I am not unsympathetic to your plight, but your suspicions thus far have been just that; _suspicions_. Thus far I have been presented no evidence from any of you that links my guild with this crime. If any wish to do so now, then speak."

Yngling Half-Troll spoke. "Who else but your band could organize to commit such a crime?" he suggested. "It is obvious they are involved!"

"Your _conjecture_ is not _evidence_, and is useless to me. Does anyone else wish to add to this?" Zayden expected another to interject but to his surprise no one else spoke. "Nothing else…? Then your silence admits that you have nothing! Why then put the burden of filling your coffers upon me if for no other reason than you thought you could? And hold the title of Hortator over my head and think you could get away with it!?"

"It almost sounds as if you are accusing us of blackmail, Hortator," said Duke Vedam.

"That is _exactly_ what I am accusing you of!" The councilman, save for Crassius, gave a collective balk. Vedam raised a hand and silenced the room.

"This is quite the accusation," said the Grandmaster. "We, of course, deny this. But you come with the wish to renegotiate the terms of your election to Hortator. Speak your arguments for the high council."

"Hlaalu High Council, I believe you all understand the ramifications of what I, as bearer of Moon-and-Star, have upon not only yourselves, not just Morrowind, but possibly all of Tamriel. The prophecy of Indoril Nerevar's reincarnation foretells a radical change upon Morrowind, one that may bring about the destruction of the Tribunal Temple and its ruling influence. What comes next is inevitable: increased influence of the Cyrodillic Empire within Morrowind. For the traditional and native Dunmer this will be a great loss. I am also not unsympathetic to this.

For House Hlaalu, however, this represents an opportunity you cannot pass up." It pained Zayden in the pit of his stomach to equate cultural destruction with financial gain. But he knew, to a room of bankers, whose primary interest was large scale trade, that this must be the angle to approach negotiations from. It was the language they understood. "House Hlaalu already has become the new great power with Vvardenfell because of Empire influence. If the Tribunal collapses, a great void will be created within society, one that House Hlaalu can easily fill. The current hit your coffers took, in the coming years, will seem a distant memory. Your house stands to gain so much more through the fulfilling of the Nerevarine Prophecy. But that prophecy can not be fulfilled if Moon-and-Star is never elected Hortator of all _three_ Great Houses of Vvardenfell.

Your choice now, then, is quite simple: extort riches from me now and deny yourself the wealth of the future, or tighten your belts for the moment and grow beyond what you currently think possible."

The case seemed to resonate with the council, a look of approval shared amongst the councilmen. The Grandmaster, however, seemed less than sold. "Your argumentation is sound," said Duke Vedam, "but it hinges on an unknown factor: time. For how long must we 'tighten our belts?' What time will elapse until the Nerevarine Prophecy is fulfilled? Months? Years? A decade or more? What assurances can you give us _now_ to our security?"

"Are you now asking the Thieves Guild how to run your banks, Grandmaster Duke?" said Zayden. The jest garnered laughing reaction from Half-Troll, Crassius, and Nevena, though the duke himself seemed less than pleased. Zayden took this as a good sign that he was beginning to win the room over. "House Hlaalu has grown to the heights it has _in spite_ of the Temple and its influence. In its absence the possibilities are endless. I can not exact a timeline, as such things are riddled with unknowns. But I have confidence House Hlaalu wil find a way forward."

"And what if you fail?" The question came from the oldest, Velanda Omani, and brought the mirth of the room to a crashing halt. "I've listened to your word choice carefully, Imperial. They are _themself_ careful. Conscious or not, you never claim to believe you are the Nerevarine, only the bearer of Moon-and-Star. You speak of the possibility of the Nerevarine Prophecy, not its inevitable completion. It makes me wonder if you even believe in the prophecy itself. Do you believe you are Indoril Incarnate? Do you believe you will fulfill the Nerevarine Prophecy? And if you do not, why should any of us put our trust in you?"

The question struck Zayden hard like a sharpened icicle through the chest. It made him rethink the past several weeks and reconsider everything. He had seen and experienced things he would have previously thought unbelievable, experienced through the eyes of another an entire lifetime. He bore a ring that kills all but the true incarnation of a great hero… But what if he failed? Could he fail? Prophecy can and has been interpreted incorrectly countless times throughout history. Was Zayden destined to be, like the ghosts in the Cavern of The Incarnate, another failure?

"Don't be so hard on the dumpling," said Crassius to Velanda. "He's doing his best to please all the houses, not just us."

"Put your favoritism aside, Crassius! My concerns are valid. Why should we put our faith in him if he doesn't believe in himself?"

"_Because!_" Zayden's voice shot from the end of the table, catching the attention of the whole room. "Because… I want to know if everything that has happened to me, and everything I have done to lead me to this moment, has been for something or for naught… I do not know if I am the Incarnate. The fact is that I can never be certain I am until it is done… But I must continue forward as if I am, for I will never forgive myself if I don't."

"And besides," Crassius cut in, "the man had made something else clear already. We can not depend on the prophecy for our future success. It must be in our hands as well, whether he succeeds or fails."

Velanda didn't like the answer she got but accepted it. The Grandmaster Duke cleared his throat loudly and brought the attention of the room back to the table's other head. "Unless anyone else wishes to voice any objections, I will make my final judgement on this meeting." Silence and slow shakes of the head came from the Councilmen and so Vedam Dren continued. "Very well… Blackcap Zayden of the Thieves Guild and Telvanni Hortator, has concluded his case and all secondary questions of the Councilmen have concluded. Based upon all, it is the opinion of myself, Duke Vedam Dren, Hlaalu Grandmaster, that the position of Zayden's election to Hlaalu Hortator, for the purpose of fulfilling the Nerevarine Prophecy, be changed. Zayden has given, in the Grandmaster's opinion, sufficient reason to believe that the successful long-term financial outcomes of the prophecy's fulfillment outweigh the initial monetary gain of collecting the Imperial's tributes. All those in agreement say "Aye."

"Aye," said Crassius Curio firstly. "He has met my standards and more than fulfilled my asked tribute earlier today." The eyes of the other Councilmen shifted between he and Zayden but none asked to explain further what he meant, much to Zayden's relief. Next came the Nord, who gave his "Aye." The two Dunmer women, followed by the Dunmer man, gave their approval. Finally came the vote of the Grandmaster himself, but when that moment came, he paused and held a very long silence, his face and eyes showing hesitation.

"Grandmaster?" asked Crassius.

"... I _do_ have some final questions of my own, Zayden, before I make my decision," said Duke Dren. "Firstly, what do you know of my brother, Orvas Dren?"

"Orvas Dren?" Zayden repeated. "I know he owns a plantation in the Ascadian Isles but not much more than that." This was not true, as Zayden knew fully well that Orvas was head of the Camonna Tong, something Vedam Dren would know as well but would also never admit to.

"Indeed. Dren Plantation has had a long reputation of being a fine netch farm and fair middleman for slaves. People who buy his slaves know them to be of fine stock, and in the farm's long life, they've held a good reputation of never having a slave escape… Except for recently… Several months ago the farm had their first escape in over thirty years. A male Argonian, red skinned. He escaped toward Pelagiad and some of Orvas's men took pursuit. They never ended up finding the escapee, and what's even odder, is a tavern owner paid them that night for over _twice_ the slave's value to drop the search right then and there. Seems rather odd that a stranger would do such a thing, would you agree?"

"I suppose," said Zayden, trying to sound both sympathetic and impartial to Vedam's story. Zayden already has a feeling where this conversation was heading and he didn't like it at all.

"Something else interesting happened to another of his stock, this happening just several days ago. Orvas had sold an Argonian female to a brothel in Suran. Suran is currently Redoran territory but it used to be Hlaalu and we still hold some of our investments in the town, the brothel being one of them. This female was _stolen_ from the brothel, right from under the noses of the business's owner and another whore who was the last to see her. She was drugged and couldn't remember the faces of the patrons."

"That's terrible news," said Zayden, "but why mention this to me?"

"I understand your travelling party consists of yourself, the Ashlander, and _two Argonians._ And I've been reliably told they match the description of the very Argonians I've mentioned; one male with red scales, and the other- female- completely beige with green eyes. Seems like an interesting coincidence, would you agree?"

"Yes," said Zayden. "Very interesting. And very coincidental."

"I'm glad you agree! In fact, it is _so_ much of a coincidence that I've been tempted to send a letter to my brother to see your Argonian companions with his own eyes." A chilled silence hung over the room, the eyes of the Councilmen shifting between Zayden and their Grandmaster. "... Of course, I've been known to get distracted easily, especially by money. If, for example, I was to come into the sudden possession of a new sum of… _two thousand_ gold? I may spend a night counting it all and forget to send my brother the letter… Do we have an understanding, Hortator Zayden?"

"... A complete understanding," Zayden seethed through clenched teeth. Two thousand gold was all he and his party had and Zayden knew Divayth Fyr would not bail him out this time. The bastard had Zayden beat at his own racketeering game and he did it all whilst comfortably seated and without breaking a sweat. "In the stables outside Vivec," Zayden continued, "I have two guar. Tucked deep in each of the saddle bags are money pouches. Take it all. It will be enough."

"Excellent! I'll send a hireling to fetch it and bring it here. While we wait please, everyone, eat and drink some more! Let us celebrate, for in a short time we shall have a new Hortator!"

Crassius's maids returned to the room and refreshed everyone's drinks. A hireling arrived shortly after and, after receiving his orders from Duke Vedam, promptly set off to retrieve Zayden's money. After an awkward moment the high council got a few more drinks into their system and soon enough the mood of the room lightened and filled with idle chatter. To Zayden's credit he chatted and spoke with and amongst the Councilmen of the room and by outward appearance he seemed to lighten in spirits. But within he was seething with rage, a rage that only swelled whenever his eyes fell back upon the Dumner at the opposite end of the table.

At least twenty minutes passed before the hireling returned, four heavy sacks of coins in hand. He placed them on the table in front of the Grandmaster and he gave them a cursory look inside. Seemingly satisfied, he called the attention of the room back onto himself. "With tribute paid I, Grandmaster Vedam Dren, give my vote of 'Aye,' thus making the matter unanimous." The Grandmaster stood up from his chair, followed by the Councilmen, and lastly Zayden. The same hireling, without having being asked, left the room and returned a short time later with a sky blue belt of thick beautiful silk and a gold buckle polished to a mirror shine. He presented the item to Zayden before handing it back to the hireling who brought it to Zayden.

"May this article," Dren continued, "be proof that House Hlaalu has named you, Imperial Zayden, Hlaalu Hortator! We wish you luck and success in your future endeavors, and may our ventures be long and profitable as a result!"

The room raised their glasses in a toast. Zayden joined in and received the belt from the hireling. He spent thirty more minutes in the dining room before he thanked everyone in the room one final time and politely made his leave known. The room bid him additional farewells and Zayden finally exited. Caius stood in wait outside and, like it was after meeting with House Telvanni, found himself rushing to catch up with Zayden. "Why does it seem you're always in such a rush to leave these meetings?" Caius asked Zayden half-seriously. "So? What happened, then?" Zayden placed the belt into Caius's hands. "You were successful?"

"Yes. I have been named Hortator of House Hlaalu." Zayden said this with absolutely no hint of pride.

"Wha- This is great news! This leaves only one house left! What in Oblivion are you angry about?"

"The Grandmaster bested me in my own trade. He found out about Hui and Jeed-Ei through his brother. All the Councilmen agreed to rescind their tributes, but _he_ blackmailed our last two thousand from us."

"So that hireling that passed earlier with the coin sacks was-"

"_Our money_, yes. The last of it!"

Zayden suddenly felt his shoulder grabbed and was spun around. Caius then clutched Zayden by the collar bone and squeezed painfully. "What did I tell you before about your stupid pride?" Caius grumbled. "One would think being in the Thieves Guild for so long would have instilled some humility. So you got fleeced. That sucks. But who cares!? You got what you came here for! This is a _victory!_ I wonder, Zayden, what bankers did to you in your past life to make you despise them so much."

Zayden knew he was in the wrong and took a moment to breathe deep and calm his nerves. "I'm sorry," said Zayden at length. "I know I shouldn't be this angry. It's just… In the Thieves Guild, if you do what you're told and do everything right, people leave you alone. Either no one outside the guild knows who you are or they pretend that they don't. No one, not even the guard, holds anything against you.

But that Grandmaster had the upper hand from the very beginning. I'm not used to being on the defensive."

"That, unfortunately, is a part of life and, as time goes on, will become part of being the Nerevarine. You're a public figure now, whether you like it or not. Everything you've ever done can and will be used against you. But you're a good man, Zayden, and if you live with no regrets and remain true to yourself, you have nothing to fear."

"Perhaps you're right. But we're now completely broke, Caius."

"That's not the worst thing that could happen to us, Zayden. We are still within Vivec, under the protection of the ordinators for the time being. They feed us (albeit poorly) and we have only one Great House left to meet with. We'll be leaving Vivec and returning to Balmora soon enough. We can survive until then. So please, temper what fury and indignation you have until then."

"Yes, Sir," Zayden sighed. "It would have been nice, also, to celebrate this evening. But we drank the last of your flin last night and now we can not buy anymore."

"I think you can survive a sober evening as well."

"Although I _might_ be able to drink for free at Gentleman Jim's speakeasy-" Zayden was promptly hit with a friendly punch to the shoulder. "Ok, ok, forget it. I suppose House Redoran is more important, and we knew since the beginning that they could pose the toughest house to convince. I should be preparing for tomorrow instead."

The two Imperials, Zayden taking back his new belt, walked under guard back to their residents in St. Delyn canton. Upon first coming back to the room both men quickly noticed that the table was cluttered with bottles and wrapped food items they did not have that morning. Hui lifted his nose from a book and greeted his friends as they entered, Jeed-Ei fast asleep next to him on the bed. "I have good news and bad," stated Zayden. "The good is that House Hlaalu now names me their hortator. But this comes with the bad news that it cost us all the remaining money we had… Although I see we have new items since this morning?"

Hui gave a satisfied, almost smug grin as Zayden and Caius walked over to the table and examined its contents. There were three bundles wrapped in brown paper. One was hackle-lo leaves, the other saltrice grains, and the last dried nix-hound jerky. The table's two clay jugs contained mazte. Zayden turned to Hui and asked if he was responsible for this. To his surprise Hui shook his head and pointed to Jeed-Ei.

"_She_ got us all this?" asked Zayden. "How did she manage that?"

Hui got up from his bed, poured the returning Imperials some of the fresh mazte, and explained. The story was short but astounding. After Caius and Zayden left, Hui cracked open one of his spell books and delved into his studies. Jeed-Ei had previously read with Hui, if only to pass the time, but had slowly found herself more and more interested in these materials on magic. Today the book was marked on a section for illusion magic, specifically the spell for "calm."

This spell and the idea of influencing the mind of another person fascinated Jeed-Ei and she quickly wanted Hui to teach it to her. He tried to explain that calming beasts was an easier task than trying to calm humanoid life, but she wanted to start immediately on humanoids. Hui humored her and taught her through the basics of the calm spell. She seemed to catch onto the minutia quickly and very well. Once basics were explained Hui invited her to try the spell on himself, saying to command him to do something simple.

Jeed-Ei agreed and Hui awaited her results, not at all believing anything would result from her very first attempt. But to his surprise, in an instant, Hui found himself standing on the other side of the room not having remembered getting up and moving there. Hui looked back at Jeed-Ei and saw she was just as surprised as he. Hui told her to do it again and he suddenly found himself back on the bed. The two tested a few more times, each to success after success. Hui was astounded by this sudden revelation, both he and Jeed-Ei previously believing she had no natural skill in magic.

Jeed-Ei became enraptured by her new found ability and, high off her success, desperately wanted to test her magic even further. Around that moment her stomach began to growl, giving her an idea. Against Hui's warning Jeed-Ei approached the door of the room and knocked, calling the attention of the two ordinators standing watch outside it. One opened the door and quickly demanded what she wanted. She tried the spell on the ordinator, giving a gentle wave of her hand in front of the two's faces. She commanded them to fetch food and drink. For a moment the guards seemed barely affected and the spell ultimately failed. She had performed the spell in Jel and none of the two spoke the language and the meaning of her words were lost to them.

Jeed-Ei pushed through a second attempt, putting more energy into it. She luckily knew the words for "food" and "drink" in Cyrodillic and thought of them as she tried once more. This time it worked and one of the guards walked away from his post. The second guard closed the door just as Jeed-Ei then collapsed from exhaustion. The effort used in the spells quickly drained her of energy. Hui helped her to the bed and it was there she remained sleeping when the ordinator returned with the items and until Zayden and Caius returned.

The two Imperials were just as astounded at this new revelation as Hui, Caius half-joking that their money problem was solved. This prompted Hui to ask what Zayden meant which then prompted Zayden to further explain what had happened in his meeting with the Hlaalu high council. Instead of telling the whole truth Zayden told Hui that the Grandmaster was simply greedy and, contrary to his Councilmen, maintained a high tribute price. The fib seemed to work and Hui said a few unkind things about the house for Zayden's benefit.

Jeed-Ei awoke roughly an hour later and the company ate and drank together to celebrate both her and Zayden's accomplishments. With two house votes complete, the last and most difficult great house remained: House Redoran. Their connection to the Tribunal Temple was a strong one, they being a house that valued tradition. Zayden felt unsure how exactly to persuade the house, the ultimate conclusion to the Nerevarine Prophecy acting in direct opposition to everything House Redoran believed and supported. It took the collective minds of all four members of Zayden's party to devise a strategy as to what to say, and even as they finally retired to sleep that night the four still remained unsure as to its success. Only the gods knew what lay ahead.


	15. House Redoran

Chapter 15: House Redoran

The Redoran Great House was informed within the hour of Zayden's election to Hlaalu Hortator, which meant the meeting of their high council would come the next day. By that same day's evening they had sent correspondence directly to the Imperial stating at what time they wished to meet. The time they chose was at the very break of dawn, much soon than any previous house. Zayden agreed, being in no good position to deny, and awoke an hour before dawn the next day to eat and get ready. His preparations stirred everyone else from their sleep, Hui and Caius attempting to get ready themselves. Zayden quickly stopped them, telling them he intended on facing the Redoran high council alone.

The escort into the cool, pre-dawn air was a short one, the Redoran Canton being the next one north of St Delyn. No significant type of crowd could form due to the early hour and short distance, making the trek to the Redoran Plaza atop the canton a relatively short one. One within the plaza Zayden entered an annex door set in a tucked-away corner alone, a door that led to a narrow stairwell that led back down into the canton which then entered into a type of reception area. Two Redoran Dunmer, clad in chitin armor and armed with short spears, met with Zayden and escorted Zayden the rest of the way to the high council's meeting chamber.

This chamber, like the Telvanni's, was round and with vaulted ceiling. But unlike the other this room had no tables or chairs to speak of. A ring of cushions on the floor encircled a wide and low metal bowl in the room's center. A bright fire burned within it, the smoke venting upward through a hole in the ceiling. The Redoran Archmaster, Bolvyn Venim, sat in a more raised and prominent position than his five Councilmen; Miner Arobar, Garisa Llethri, Mistress Brara Morvayn, Hlaren Ramoran, and Athyn Sarethi. All members of this high council were dressed in traditional Dunmeri garb, a style of clothing that rang similar to the look of the Ashlanders. All members were Dunmer.

Zayden gave a deep and measured bow to the room before sitting cross-legged in the one remaining spot. With the honored guest's arrival, hirelings entered the chamber to serve sujamma and all the council members began to smoke, all of them through long-stemmed wooden pipes. Zayden joined them with a cigar of his own.

"Great House Redoran welcomes you, Imperial Blackcap Zayden, Telvanni and Hlaalu Hortator, to a meeting of our high council," began Archmaster Bolvyn Venim. Zayden gave another quick and silent bow of thanks. "I must first begin with an expression of disappointment toward you." Already Zayden was getting a bad feeling from the Archmaster. "You have already shown House Redoran disrespect by choosing to meet with our high council _last_. Do you think of us an afterthought"

"On the contrary," Zayden quickly replied. "It is for the very reason I considered House Redoran my greatest _challenge_ that I chose to face you last. House Telvanni, the most apathetic, was the easiest to persuade. House Hlaalu, driven by their greed, took a bit more to convince. But House Redoran- men, women, and mer of tradition- would be my greatest challenge."

"Indeed," said Bolvyn, accepting the praise but unsure whether to believe Zayden or not. "You clearly come before us not unaware of our conflicts of interest. House Redoran's connection to the Tribunal Temple is strong and many centuries old. You come before us to ask that we grant you the title of 'Hortator' so that you may fulfill the Nerevarine prophecy. This prophecy, of course, would spell the doom of the Tribunal, our ally. I am curious what hope you think you have to convince us to abandon our ways. It is, after all, Redoran men that make up the Buoyant Armigers, warriors who serve directly under Lord Vivec. Again, I ask you, what hope do you think you have?"

"I would not sit before you today if I did not think there was a chance," Zayden replied. "I come before you, in part, not to ask you to abandon your beliefs or allies, but merely to ask you to ask more of it. To reconsider things and see them through a new light."

"You sound like a usurper!" shouted Hlaren Ramoran. "What is there to reconsider!?"

"The connection to your way of life and your trust in the Tribunal."

Stiff grunts of anger and glaring eyes came from the entire room onto Zayden. "Blasphemy!" continued Hlaren. "Blasphemy!"

"Please, hear me out!" Zayden filled the council chamber with his voice. "Your house, House Redoran, is one of great virtues! Gravity to the seriousness of life. Duty to one's honor, family, and clan. Piety to the gods! You put great value in a heavy life of responsibility. These are all grand values-"

"Interesting praise," said Miner Arobar, "from a _thief_. What would a thief know of duty? What would a thief know of gravity? You live lives off the exploitation of others! You 'earn' nothing for all your 'work.' You expect us to take your opinion on such things?"

"I personally know little of piety, but I know more of the other virtues than one might guess," said Zayden. "I know duty to my fellow thieves and to a greater cause of stifling greater criminal threats that plague the people by beating them at their own game. I know of gravity by recognizing that the official law can only do so much to combat crime and corruption and that sometimes the only way to defeat a criminal is to _be_ a criminal.

The way I see things, the Thieves Guild and House Redoran share more at our core of beliefs than one might first believe. Our drives are not so dissimilar, merely the means through which we fulfill them." Zayden's explanation yielded less than tepid approval. "I do not mean to say we are _the same_, just similar."

"We are not at all 'similar,'" Mistress Brara spat back, "and I will hear no more sophistry from you claiming otherwise. But I have yet to hear the underlying answer to what our Archmaster has asked. You ask House Redoran to support you in an endeavor that acts against our interests and our ally. Why should we do such a thing?"

"Because your faith," replied Zayden, at length, "in my opinion… is misplaced."

Cries of "blasphemy" came again, now from both Hlaren and Athyn Sarethi, and all the other Councilmen balked in offence. The Archmaster raised a hand and brought the room to order. "You are bold to enter the den and provoke its bear," said Bolvyn. "I should expel you from this meeting right now for your blasphemy. But I will be kind and give you one final chance to redeem yourself. Choose your next words carefully, _thief_."

"... Redoran high council," said Zayden, "I can not believe you are all unaware of what the future holds _without_ the coming of the Nerevarine. Dagoth Ur remains held within Red Mountain for now, much of his Corprus abominations held back by the Ghostfence, but for how much longer? He holds within his possession the Heart of Lorkhan, the source of his and the Tribunal's power. The Tribunal has been cut off from its power for centuries as Dagoth Ur grows ever stronger. Keeping Ur caged has weakened the Tribunal over the centuries and it can not last forever. When it inevitably fails, the Tribunal will be at their weakest and Ur will be at his strongest, and then there will be nothing to stop his reign of terror."

"And you think yourself the man to save us all from this doom?" Bolvyn dismissively asked.

"In perfect honesty, I do not know. But I bare Moon-and-Star. I was spoken to by Azura and witnessed the events of my past life, that of Indoril Nerevar. I was asked something similar by House Hlaalu, if I might fail. I might. But I will press forward as if I can not, for there are greater things to be concerned with…

Please, heed my words. For the sake of Morrowind, for the sake of Tamriel and the world, House Redoran can no longer afford to put their faith in the Tribunal. It will inevitably lead to the end of all things. Surely you must understand this." The Redoran high council turned stern and silent. They _did_ understand what Zayden was warning about but refused to admit it. Zayden continued. "The Nerevarine prophecy promises the end to Dagoth Ur, but with it the end of the Tribunal. I can not deny that the Tribunal created a golden age for your people and to lose it would be a hardship... but is not House Redoran a power _built_ on hardship?"

Again the high council remained silent but in their eyes glinted a faint flicker of realization. They recognized where the Imperial was heading and secretly wanted to hear more. The five looked to the Archmaster to see what he would do or say next. "Continue…" said Bolvyn.

"The collapse of the Tribunal will create a power vacuum within Vvardenfell, one that the Cyrodillic Empire will attempt to fill, but I believe House Redoran stands a better chance of occupying it. The faith and unity of your people can be maintained and with this new power, I believe, the island can be rallied together to withstand the Empire, making House Redoran the new great ruling force in Vvardenfell. House Hlaalu will lose their power without their Imperial backers."

"How did you get Hlaalu's support, then," asked the Archmaster, "if you believe they are doomed in the future of the Nerevarine prophecy?"

"I never said they were 'doomed.' In truth, I do not know exactly how the future will unfold. I sold House Hlaalu the _potential_ of a prosperous future where the Empire enters Morrowind further. That was enough to convince them to support me. But House Redoran can cut Hlaalu off at the heels and prevent their growth."

"You hold dual allegiances, Zayden," said Bolvyn Venim, "a dishonorable position to hold. You sell both us _and_ Hlaalu a grand future, but one's success comes at the cost of another. Which house do you _truly _believe will survive the Nerevarine prophecy?"

"Redoran, of course. Business and wealth is a great power, but prone to corruption within. A bedrock of honor builds a stronger house," said Zayden. He spoke his reply with confidence and in some respect believed it, but it was still a mask. The truth was, whether he was speaking to House Redoran, Hlaalu, or even Telvanni, he was simply saying what everyone _wanted_ to hear. It was dirty work but to fulfill the Nerevarine Prophecy it had to be done. Regardless, his response in House Redoran's favor received modest approval from the high council. Zayden felt like he was working the room back over to him. He took advantage and pressed further.

"Your people- the Dunmer people- are mer built and strengthened from hardship. You live within the shadow of a red mountain that plaques you with its ash. Your people took it from the Nords after two centuries of their oppression. Your people, as the Chimer, live through conflict after conflict with the Dwemer until their disappearance. You have much to be proud of and the Tribunal wished to give you a 'golden age.' Perhaps they have, but it came at the price of your identity as Chimer. And it is not a place of honor to exist within. Men and mer of honor, piety, and gravity are rarely bred from times of peace. I argue that the Tribunal, so long as they exist as demi-gods of Morrowind, rob the Dunmer of their hardships and make them weak."

The argument, understandably, made the Dunmer of the room visually uneasy. It was a long, silent moment before anyone spoke further. "You ask much of us," said Athyn Sarethi. "Our support of the Tribunal is centuries old. You ask us to regress to a time before that, when we put our faith in daedric gods who are fickle, unconcerned, and uncaring. It was Azura, after all, who cursed our entire race with our ashen skin and blood eyes because of the actions of three. The same three who now keep the Empire at bay. Do you demand that we surrender this? Do you ask we return to the Daedra, Servant-of-Azura?"

"You admit, then, that the Tribunal is a crutch! You depend on it and if suddenly without you would be weak! Is _that_ the way of Redoran? Strength through dependence and servitude to false gods?" Athyn looked ready to strike at Zayden but the Archmaster raised his voice and once more redirected the room onto him.

"I have seen enough," he declared. "It is clear to me now what must be done. Zayden has declared our gods false, and therefore gives us the highest insult. He states we, House Redoran, should seek a new future divorced from the Tribunal and says it will make us stronger. I submit, then, that the strength of our convictions be tested!" The Councilmen looked between themselves and Zayden, unsure what their Archmaster was suggesting. He then raised a hand and pointed at Zayden from across the fire. "You know the beliefs of the Telvanni, yes? That he who is more powerful is the more correct? Perhaps then we should apply such logic between you and House Redoran." Now the Councilmen were even more perplexed and Zayden began to dread what was going to be said next.

Bolvyn Venim stood up and pointed at Zayden once again. "I challenge you, Imperial Zayden, Blackcap, Twice Hortator, to a duel of honor! Whoever wins will sway the vote of the high council. If you win, House Redoran shall name you Hortator. If you fall, you will never be named." The Councilmen were all in immediate agreement. "Do you accept this challenge, Zayden?"

"What are your terms?" asked the Imperial.

"It will be a duel of martial skill. No use of magic and spells are to be allowed. Do you accept?" Zayden nodded. "Zayden is allowed to stipulate one term of the fight as well. What is your request?"

Zayden thought for a moment before replying that "The fight shall be to thrice blood drawn. I have no desire to kill you, Archmaster."

"It does not reflect well upon you that you are not willing to kill for your beliefs. I'm not surprised the _thief_ choses a coward's way out. But very well, I shall honor your request… I declare the duel shall take place in the Arena Canton in three days, at high noon. Come with all your strength and may the best _mer_ win. I call this meeting of the high council dismissed!"

-o0o-

Zayden waited until he and Caius returned to their room in St. Delyn before divulging the content of his meeting with the Redoran high council. Everyone was understandably worried. The last time he ever fought in open combat, in spite of all his training from Zeela, Zayden was badly injured and forced to kill a headstrong teenager in Ald'Ruhn. But Zayden attempted to less hs friend's worries and, oddly, seemed rather self-assured about the match three days into the future. It soon became clear to the others why.

Zayden began emptying the small pouches on his sword belt of all the small bombs Hui made months ago: fire crackers, smoke bombs, flash bombs, and even a pair of small fire bombs. Zayden asked the Argonian to check if all the items were still in good condition and, if possible, if he could make any more. Hui quickly looked them over and deemed all in usable condition, though most of the bombs' casings had discolored from moisture from the heavy rains days past. He warned at the possibility of failure.

As far as crafting more was concerned Hui admitted he was without many of the necessary ingredients. The most he could currently make were a small bundle of fire crackers and one more smoke bomb but nothing else. Jeed-Ei offered to test her illusion magic and force one of the ordinators to gather more ingredients from the market. Zayden thanked her but refused, saying that what Hui could already make would probably be enough. Zayden explained to the company that he believed that Archmaster Bolvyn would no doubt be superior to himself in strength, but perhaps not in speed. Zayden believed his superior agility, coupled with his bombs as tools to distract or confuse could win him the day.

The city ordinators seemed to actively conspire against Zayden and prevented him and his party from leaving their room for the full three days before the duel. All the food Jeed-Ei had tricked the guard into buying was confiscated back, everyone's meal rations were reduced as punishment, and Caius suspected their water was being subtly poisoned. The ordinators would never outright kill Zayden but they seemed damned intent on making him loose come the day of the fight.

By the evening of the day before the fight the company had finally had enough of their treatment by the ordinators. Even Caius, who previously warned Zayden against causing trouble within Vivec, was livid about everyone's treatment and suggested an escape plan. Jeed-Ei offered to use her magic to influence the guards outside the door once this time the girl had had more training in illusion magic and she was able to command the two without passing out, though the act did render her slightly weak. By her command the two guards walked away from their post and began walking aimlessly, shouting blasphemies against the Tribunal. This naturally caught the attention of the other nearby guard and a brawl quickly escalated. This allowed the company to slip out of St. Delyn canton and into the night, across the city and back to a hidden speakeasy in the Foreign Quarter. There they were finally able to get a proper meal and night's rest.

When Vivec's ordinators learned of the Hortator's escape they issued a search that lasted through the entire night, all of which led to no success, as if his company and he vanished from Nirn. The guard only became more furious when the company was eventually spotted walking casually toward the Arena canton an hour before high noon. The search party that found and surrounded them seemed infinitely angered they were not allowed to simply impale all four of them with their spears right on the spot. They instead escorted them the rest of the way and made their frustrations as clear as possible.

Organizers of the arena made the day into a long spectacle with slave and beast fights starting three hours before the main event. From outside the canton, as the company approached, one could hear the crowds escaping through the open air roof. Once stepping onto the canton proper Zayden was forcefully split from the others. The ordinator that grabbed him stated that the others would watch him die from the stands like everyone else and that he needed to enter through the waistworks. The waistworks entrance was along the waterfront where many boats, small to large, were docked. The entrance itself was a small guarded door that entered into a narrow dimly lit corridor.

Lining each wall were the cell doors where slave fighters were held. The air smelled stale with sweat, urine, and rotten food. One off every several cell Zayden passed had the face of a hopeless soul staring out through the bars of the door. The corridor seemed to stretch on and on, eventually turning into a corridor with larger doors where beasts were held. Many of the creatures, Zayden noticed, were not native to Vvardenfell, but rather Cyrodill, Skyrim, and Elsweyr. Finally the path ended at a stairwell that led the group up to the next level, where combatants of men, mer, and beast races gathered: the "Bloodworks."

The Bloodworks acted like a staging area for fighters to train, eat and drink, and prepare for their matches. There were roaring hearths, young boys and girls serving food and mazte, sparring circles with adjacent racks of wooden practice weapons, and just about every style and type of fighter one could imagine. Anyone here was either an arena champion, a freshly hired sellsword, or a slave that lived long enough to be remembered by people in the crowd. Whoever they were they all seemed preoccupied with their own business of fighting or drinking. None really gave a second glance to the man in the sneaking suit being escorted by ordinators.

The two guards ordered Zayden to sit on a bench and stay there. One of them then split off, stating he would alert the arena's "Pit Master" of Zayden's arrival. A few minutes passed in the remaining two's silence and Zayden began looking around at the fighters. "I do not see my opponent," Zayden stated aloud. "Where is Bolvyn Venim?"

"The Redoran Archmaster," the ordinator replied, "is probably in the Bloodworks on the opposite end of the arena pit. He will probably be called out first." As the guard explained this a little girl approached Zayden and attempted to hand him a cup of mazte. It was promptly knocked out of her hand by the butt of the ordinator's spear. "Get lost, girl. Nothing for him." The girl scampered away with a frightful apology.

After another several minutes the guard returned with an Altmer man clad in armor made from greenish-black orichalcum, a metal prized by and associated with the Orcs. When forged into armor or weapons its strength rivaled that of steel but fell short of even greater materials like ebony or glass. Zayden stood up and greeted the battle-scarred elf. "So you're the 'Nerevarine,' then?" he asked Zayden. "Name's Seanwen. I must give you some credit. You and the Archmaster have drawn a damn good crowd today. I'd wish you luck today but, in all honesty, I'd rather you lose. Bad for business if some n'wah- their words, not mine- defeated the head of House Redoran in my own arena. Just put on a good show and, when you die, make it beautiful. That's what I say."

"You should say something else," Zayden shot back.

Seanwen pretended to ignore the quip and aimed a finger at a gate on the opposite side of the room. "We have another beast/slave fight before you go on. You'll hear a low horn before your match begins and when you hear your que, enter the pit through that door. Trust me, you'll know when that is. It shouldn't be more than ten minutes from now from how those Khajiit were getting hammered by those three frost trolls. So have a drink and make it last, for it will _be_ your last." With that the Altmer left the Bloodworks the way he came.

Zayden practically counted the seconds as he awaited his que. He paced the length of the room again and again, inspected his weapons twice, thrice, and five times. He really _did_ want a drink but knew the ordinators would stop him. Time slowed to a crawl as the sounds of the fighting just beyond the door went on. There eventually came a big applause followed by a lull in excitement. Then came a single long blow of a horn and Zayden knew his time was finally here.

His heart began racing as he approached the door. He stood inches from it and listened to the sounds from the other side. A second blow of the horn came and the crowd went mostly silent. The voice of Seanwen then came projecting loud and clear for the entire arena to hear.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Men, mer, and beasts!" Seanwen began. "The time of high noon is upon us, and as you all no doubt know, today we are proud to bring you a fight for the ages! A fight that truly _will_ alter the future of Vvardenfell and Morrowind! Today, we have fighting in Lord Vivec's arena a challenger that has already claimed the status of 'Hortator' from both Great Houses Hlaalu and Telvanni! All toward the goal of fulfilling the Nerevarine Prophecy!" Boos filled the arena. "And now a challenge has been set by the head of House Redoran for the remaining title of Redoran Hortator. If today's opponent is successful, he shall gain the title!

The rules of this fight had been set and agreed upon by both combatants. This shall be a contest of pure martial skill with no use of magic. The winner will be the one to draw blood from his opponent thrice. And so now I call to the arena pit the first combatant: Archmaster of House Redoran, Bolvyn Venim!" The arena roared a moment later, only stopping when Seanwen spoke again. "And now, the opponent, seeking the title of Redoran Hortator. I present to you the Imperial, Zayden!"

The door before Zayden rose up and he walked through and onto the arena dirt floor. The fighting floor was a large oval measuring one hundred feet at its longest ends. All around were rows and rows of seats stacked practically on top of each other, half of them seemingly filled with a booing spectator. Zayden had gotten glimpses at this hostility toward him over the past days by the crowds that followed him. But now, contained within the arena, now unbridled and unhindered by the threat of ordinator spears, the disdain was palpable.

Zayden quickly scanned the stands for his friends but could not find Caius, Hui, or Jeed-Ei amongst the hundreds of others. He swore he caught a glimpse of them before he turned his gaze back forward, at his opponent Archmaster Bolvyn Venim, and saw something that nearly caused him to collapse to his knees. What stood before Zayden was the mer clad head to toe, helmet and all, in obsidian black armor, polished to a shine and intricately decorated in gold leaf of ornate patterns. The armor was made from _ebony_, one of the strongest and most costly materials one could afford. A full suit such as this would take an average man a lifetime of savings to afford, and stories tell of the strongest warriors striking ebony armor with massive steel hammers only for it to remain completely unmarred. Then, sheathed at the mer's waist was something even worse.

Sheathed at the Archmaster's waist were two swords, one a long hand-and-a-half sword and the other a wakizashi. Zayden could tell from the hilts, even from a distance, that both blades were made from the same red and black metal of Divayth Fyr's armor. This metal was aptly known as "daedric" because it was ebony even _more_ finely refined by daedric creatures themselves, and the stories and tales of its strength, deadliness, and value rivaled even that of ebony! Zayden glanced at the steel swords at his own waist and thought himself already dead.

Zayden's legs carried him like a ghost the rest of the way to the center of the arena pit. He took his spot next to Bolvyn and turned to face a podium where Seanwen stood high above the pit. Finally at this distance Zayden noticed sitting to the left of the podium was Hui, Zeed-Ei, and Caius. Sitting to the right, separated by their houses, were all the high councils of Redoran, Hlaalu, and Telvanni, including in the latter Divayth Fyr and his daughter-wives.

Seanwen signaled another blow of the horn and the crowd once more hushed. "Our two competitors have now arrived!" he announced, the acoustics of the arena carrying his voice loud and clear. "Redoran Archmaster and Nerevarine Zayden! Once again, to reiterate the terms of the match: no magic shall be used and the first to draw blood from their opponent thrice shall be victorious. Do the competitors agree to these terms?"

"I do," came from both Zayden and Bolvyn.

"Then retreat to opposite ends of the pit and when the horn blows once the more the fight shall start! May the better man win!" The two men walked back to their respective places. Zayden inspected and readied his bomb pouches one final time before unsheathing his messer. Once in place he turned back and faced the armored mer now clutching his larger red and black sword with both hands. After another tense eternity the horn blew and the fight began.

Bolvyn advanced at a casual, menacing pace. He knew as well as Zayden that his armor would protect him and so there was no need to waste any energy running. Zayden took up a fighting stance and forced his heart to stop racing. His weapons may very well be useless but he had to remind himself that armor had their chinks and weak spots that could be exploited or some gap that a blade could slip into. He just needed a moment to find it. And in a flash he devised a way to create that moment.

Zayden took a few measured steps forward and away from the wall but then stopped and stood at the ready letting Bolvyn approach. The Dunmer continued to pace forward, tall sword ready to strike until he got within striking distance. His arms tensed and he was a mere moment from making his first strike, but Zayden struck first. The Imperial snatched up a smoke bomb and threw it at Bolvyn's feet. It snapped and a thick white cloud four meters wide quickly enveloped him. Zayden then threw one of the loudest noise makers he had into the cloud and charged forward before the bomb set off.

He circled around where Bolvyn had just been and spotted him through the haze just as the fire cracker exploded. Bolvyn was caught off guard and the snap made him jump and temporarily lose his balance. Zayden jumped at this opportunity, spied a gap in the armor behind the knee of his left leg and made a strong downward cut at it. The blade met its mark and the Dunmer made a loud pained grunt but Zayden's fears of the ebony armor were quickly realized.

When Zayden pulled the blade back to deepen the cut he was shocked to see the cutting edge made no effect at all. Even in a gap, with all his strength, the cut did nothing to the material beneath. The steel was useless! Bolvyn retaliated by spinning around making a wide horizontal swing that Zayden barely managed to avoid. The mer with all his armor was still amazingly quick!

A moment later the horn blew again and Bolvyn instantly dropped his fighting stance, prompting Zadyen to do the same. A gust of wind blew aside the smoke and the two fighters found themselves surrounded by ordinators and drawn spears. The two were ordered to sheathe their weapons and they quickly complied. Zayden was confused why this was happening and turned with Bolvyn to face the Pit Master. The crowd was roaring with outrage.

"Imperil Zayden!" Seanwen announced. "It was agreed that no magic would be used in this match. You stand guilty of breaking this rule within seconds of the match's start!"

"It is not magic!" Zayden exclaimed back, producing another smoke bomb from a pouch to show the Altmer. "This is a bomb, crafted from alchemy, that explodes on contact when thrown! This required no magicka to use, and is therefore not a spell and not magic!"

"Alchemy is a discipline of magic, taught to mages and wizards alike!"

"But is a skill any non-magic folk can use, have they the ingredients, recipe, and time to craft it. It is _not_ _magic_!" Zayden reiterated.

Seanwen paused and considered the Imperial's point, turning to whisper and discuss the matter with arena officials to his left and right. After another suspenseful moment he turned back to the pit. "Your argumentation is sound," said Seanwen, "but it has been decided that further use of such craft is henceforth forbidden. Zayden will now surrender all bombs to the guard!" An ordinator near Zayden approached and forcefully removed the pouches from his sword belt. As this occurred Bolvyn Venim took a step toward the Pit Master.

"Honorable Pit Master," he said after removing his helm. "This Imperial has shown dishonor not just to myself, but to House Redoran and to your magnificent arena! Such ill behavior must not go unpunished. I therefore request that the term of 'Thrice Blood,' made by the offenderm be rescinded and be replaced with a term of tradition and one that he may face punishment under. I request this fight now be to the death!"

The crowd roared with approval and made the decision for Seanwen. "Agreed!" he called back. "'Thrice Blood' is officially rescinded. This match shall now be to the death!" Again the arena roared. "Ordinators, clear the field, and let this battle resume!" The golden guards rushed off and the two fighters stepped back from each other, taking their fighting stances once again. Zayden's heart began racing once again. Bolvyn chuckled aloud, the red eyes behind the slit visor of his redawned helm now burning with murderous intent.

"Now, blasphemer," said Bolvyn, "I have no reason to measure my skill. I will now fight with my full might and you will fall beneath my blade! Your prophecy ends here!" The horn blew and the Dunmer exploded forward unleashing a flurry of attacks. The mer's speed and agility once more caught Zayden by surprise and left him little option but to block and parry his every attack. The daedric sword, in spite of being wielded so quickly in Bolvyn's hands, was shockingly heavy. Each clash with the steel messer slightly warped and bent it, each hit threatening to knock it from Zayden's hands. After several blocks Zayden had no choice but to find a break in the assault and retreat away to put distance between the two of them. The crowd saw the retreat as cowardice and began to taunt the Imperial.

Once Zayden put roughly five meters between himself and Bolvyn he turned back to face him. The mer was already walking forward and closing the gap. Now without his bombs Zayden needed to think of a new strategy and quick. He now knew his steel would be useless against ebony, even in the gaps, and one connected swing of the daedric bastard sword would cut through his cloth armor like a fresh razor through paper. The only thing that could damage Bolvyn was _another_ daedric weapon, and the only place he could harm him otherwise… was his helm!

Zayden quickly swapped his sword to his left hand and began grasping at the throwing knife on his chest with his right. Once he found a grip on one he threw it forward and it bounced harmlessly against the armored chest. Zayden threw another, this one hitting slightly higher, the elf still coming closer and closer. A third struck at the neck. _Just a little closer!_

Finally the fourth hit precisely where Zayden intended. The knife flew forward and true and found its mark right within the slit of the Archmaster's helm. Bolvyn yelped and stumbled backwards and for a moment Zayden believed the knife penetrated the face. But Bolvyn turned his head revealing the knife got itself wedged in the slot too shallow for the point to reach the flesh. Bolvyn scrambled to grasp at the knife and dislodge it but found it stuck fast. This gave Zayden the opportunity he needed.

He used the moment of distraction to spring forward once again and, for added measure, kicked at the arena sand and sent it flying into the helm. Then, using all the strength he could muster, delivered a powerful strike to the side of Bolvyn's head. The blade left no mark and in fact visibly bent from the impact but it clanged loudly against the metal, the vibrations reverberating loudly in the opponent's ears. Again the mer groaned and he fell to one knee. Zayden struck the helm again and again and again, each hit dulling and warping the blade, each strike reverberating and deafening Bolvyn within his own helmet. The crowd was now going wild.

Through the noise the Archmaster finally managed to fight against the onslaught, regain grip of his sword and make a swing where Zayden was only to find he was no longer there. He stumbled back to both feet and began scanning his eyes around himself, his head and vision swimming and clouded. The Imperial was nowhere to be found. He spun frantically around and still his opponent was gone.

"If this is more of your sorcery, Imperial…" Bolvyn screamed. Just then a piercing pain stuck the back of his left leg again, this time many fold worse than the last. This one brought him back to one knee again and found he could no longer get back up upon it. He looked over his shoulder and saw a small pool of blood begin to form around his knee. Bolvyn regained the grasp of his sword and raised his arms up to make another swinging slice behind him but was interrupted by another stabbing pain, this one right beneath the right armpit. Bolvyn screamed and fell over onto his left side and rolled onto his back.

There, standing above him, was the cloaked Imperial, clutching in his right hand his own daedric short sword. Zayden reached down and retried his throwing knife, plucking it from the visor slit and returning it to a chest loop. Zayden raised the tip of the sword over the armor gap where his neck was. "Yield," he requested.

The arena became deafened by the combined cheers and outrage of everyone watching. So loud was the cacophony that Zayden never heard what the Archmaster said back. But not an instant later the mer lurched forward, grabbed the wakizashi by its guard and plunged it toward his own neck, Zayden's hand still wrapped around the handle.

The tip of the blade pierced through his windpipe and jugular vein and a geyser of crimson quickly followed. Gasps came from the stand but the noise level did not dampen. A moment later Bolvyn Venim's head slumped backwards, the sword dislodging from the neck, and the Archmaster moved no more. After another few seconds passed before Zayden bent down to remove the ebony helm and looked into the mer's now lifeless eyes. A deep and familiar chill shot through his bones that reminded him of the boy in Ald'ruhn.

The arena horn blew once again and Seanwen signaled the crowd to hush. "Hortator Zayden! Has your opponent, Redoran Archmaster Bolvyn Venim, been vanquished?"

Zayden slowly rose back to his feet and turned to face the Pit Master. "Aye!" he roared back. "Bolvyn Venim has been defeated and breathes no more!" Another bout of roars and booing filled the arena.

"Then this arena declares victory to the Imperial, Zayden! By right of combat and decree of the Redoran High Council, Zayden shall now be named Hortator of House Redoran." Again the arena spectators made their feelings known. "Also, by Redoran tradition, as victor, you are permitted one trophy from your opponent. Make your pick now!"

Zayden looked next to Bolvyn's body to the now bent and dulled steel messer, then to the weapon of daedric metal clutched in his fingers. He held the item up and declared it his prize. "Then it is settled!" Seanwen continued. "Let this match be told and retold throughout the years! Let it be known on this glorious day that the Imperial Zayden, Nerevarine Hopeful, gained the third and final title of Hortator of the three Great Houses of Vvardenfell, thus fulfilling the Fourth Trial of the Nerevarine Prophecy! Go forth, Thrice Hortator, and revel in you victory, for this day is yours!"

-o0o-

Zayden was escorted by ordinator guard out of the arena pit floor and back into the Bloodworks, the dripping daedric blade still clutched in his hand. All the previous fighters, who never gave Zayden a second glance before the match, now stopped everything they were doing to watch him pass. The Imperial kept his eyes to the ground and locked forward. He only looked up when a familiar voice came rushing toward his right. He turned and was met by the enveloping embrace of his friend Hui, followed by Jeed-Ei, and finally Caius.

"Excellent work out there!" Caius commended. "You were too quick for him and managed to escape the fight without taking a blow yourself!" Zayden forced an unconvincing smile out the right corner of his mouth and it was all he could muster at the moment. "And now the Fourth Trial is complete! All three Great Houses name you Hortator!"

Zayden lifted the short sword and examined the blade in the surrounding hearth light. The blood coating it was beginning to dry and turn a dark brown. "I couldn't hear what Bolvyn Venim final words were to me," said Zayden in a whisper. "I wonder if he cursed me for refusing to kill him. I suppose now only the gods know for sure, and what's done is done…"

"Is something wrong, Zayden?" asked Hui.

"So many things have already happened to me since arriving in Vvardenfell but so much more lay ahead. And this is now the _second_ life to fall from my blade."

"But he-"

"Threw himself against it, yes, I know, but it scarcely feels any different!"

Before Zayden could speak further he spotted from across the room the Pit Master approaching, flanked on both sides by the five Councilmen of House Redoran, none of whom looked at all pleased. The Altmer thanked Zayden for putting on a short but glorious show, one that was sure to bring spectators back for months to come. He was quickly brushed aside by one of the Redoran, Miner Arobar, who approached Zayden and brought his enraged eyes to within a foot of his.

"The Redoran High Council condemns your actions on this day!" he spat in Zayden's face. "You broke agreed upon rules, damn what the Pit Master says! You fight dishonorably, and had our Archmaster not declared it so, none of us would _ever_ elect you our Hortator!

But _we_ are Dunmer of _honor_. We shall respect our Archmaster's wish and grant you your title, though you do not deserve it in the slightest." Miner retrieved from a pocket a ring of mirror silver band and a large, square cut maroon gem. "This ring acts as proof that House Redoran names you their Hortator." He practically shoved the ring into Zayden's left hand. "The High Council wishes you luck in your fulfillment in the Nerevarine Prophecy and that all you predict of us comes true. Now go forth, and if you ever dishonor House Redoran again we promise to never allow your actions to go unpunished again!" With that the five Councilmen turned and left leaving a flabbergasted Pit Master to look on in surprise.

"Jeez…" he sighed. "I suppose everyone can't be pleased all of the time, am I right?" His attempt at lightening the mood was met with only glares and disapproval. "Like _myself_, apparently. Ok fine, I know when I'm being told to 'fuck off.' Good show again, Zayden. Hope you come back again to fight sometime soon." The Altmer made a quick retreat before any punches started flying in his direction.

With him gone the company turned their attention back to Zayden who had not lifted his impassive gaze from his newly gifted ring. Caius approached him and asked if his friend was ok. Zayden slowly shook his head. "I never believed this path forward would be easy," said Zayden at length, "but no accomplishment thus far has felt like a victory. The heads of two Great Houses needed to die for me to achieve my goals…"

"They all understood what they were doing, Zayden. They lived by their own codes. I know it feels wrong but this is their way. You are still a stranger in this strange land, as I was decades ago when I was assigned the position of Grand Spymaster within Vvardenfell. This is a difficult thing to undertake, and the road into the Fifth Trial will only be tougher, but I will help you however I can. _We_ will be here the entire way."

Zayden finally lifted his gaze and was met with the looks of his three friends, all of them grinning and placing a hand on their shoulder. Zayden smiled back wearily and a moment later another approaching voice sounded. Zayden and company turned and was met with a familiar face, only this time without his paramores. "Fye," Zayden greeted. "Were you watching in the stands?"

"Naturally," Divayth Fyr answered. "What better opportunity to see the results of my cure. I needed to see your enhanced strength and endurance in person. You bashed that messer of yours into a mangled heep. I think that's evidence enough to keep the Dwemer happy. I know the fight wasn't very long, but did you feel fatigued at all?"

"Hard to say," Zayden replied. "I was so pumped full of adrenaline that I wasn't paying attention to that… I don't think I ever _did_. I suppose I can not know for sure until I try something else."

"Perhaps a nice long jog?" Fye suggested. Zayden wasn't sure if it was a joke, but as it came from Fyr, just as soon assumed it wasn't. "At any rate, well done on completing the Fourth Trial. The Ashlanders await you next for the Fifth. I won't be able to assist you in this matter much; the affairs of tribal people and the Nerevarine Cult are not my forte. Still, I wish you luck."

"Thank you…" Zayden's gaze fell back downward to his blood-encased sword and after a moment's pause he held the blade up to Fyr. "Here. I owe you a piece for your collection for the help you've given me in the past. I do not desire this blade. You may have it."

"Don't be a fool," the wizard scolded. "This weapon is _daedric._ Most men and mer go their entire lives never setting sight on such a material. Not even the High Elves- millennium lifespans they have- often see such a thing, no less possess one."

"But you are clad in an entire armor suit of the material, Fyr. Such a material cannot be _that_ uncommon."

"It _is._ I've lived for _four_ millennia, lest you forget.. It took _half_ that time to assemble what I have and I still have yet to acquire a helm! Keep your prize, Hortator. You have your entire life to repay me and I am in no hurry. You have bigger things to concern yourself with. So, where will you go from here? I believe the nearest Ashlander camp is two days northeast from here."

"We will need to visit Urshilaku Camp first and their wise woman, Nibani Maesa," said Caius. "She will be Zayden's guide for the Fifth Trial going forward."

"But before even that," said Zayden, "I'd very much like to return home to Balmora."

"Very well," shrugged Fyr. "Safe travels, in either respect. Farewell, Hortator." Divayth Fyr took his leave and Zayden and company made their escorted trek back across Vivec to their quarters in St. Delyn. With the Fourth Trial complete, Vivec's order to the ordinators to keep Zayden and his company protected was complete. The ordinators dropped all pretense of what little respect they had for the man and made no qualms in now informing Zayden that they wanted he and his friends out of the city by nightfall. It took substantially less time for everyone to pack their things and be escorted back to the mainland north of the city. There they retrieved their pair of guar mounts and with Caius riding behind Zayden and Jeed-Ei riding behind Hui they left Vivec for what they hoped- but knew would not be- their last time.


	16. Working Respite

Chapter 16: Working Respite

The return ride to Balmora was without pause and in total travel time significantly shorter than the journey from. The company left a pair of hours after noon and they reached the outer wall of the city by the first creep of late dusk. All had hoped they would be able to go immediately to the South Wall Cornerclub and gain some long deserved rest and peace. This desire ended up being delayed.

Through messenger animals and other means the news of the newly named Thrice Hortator had already reached Balmora and impregnated the mind and consciousness of the city and its people. When the pair of mounts came into view of one of the city's guard towers loud horns began to blow. When the beasts finally passed into the city itself a welcoming party of the city guard, led by its highest ranking captains, had already assembled at Balmora's main entrance ready to greet the arrival along with a mass of onlooking civilians.

The captain gave a brief but formal welcome to the Hlaalu Hortator and stated that the city guard was now, more or less, willing to serve at Zayden's pleasure. Zayden thanked the captain but then quickly asked of him only that he and his friends be left alone so he and they may prepare for the next leg of the journey. The captain agreed and, with some effort, dispersed the crowds to allow the mounts clear path across the Odai River, to Labor Street, and their intended destination.

South Wall was just as Zayden left it and a congregation of familiar faces- thieves and patrons alike- had already gathered outside the main entrance, all of them no doubt alerted by the earlier horns. Zayden barely had a moment to dismount his guar behind the establishment before being swamped by everyone cheering his return. It was a few minutes before two even more familiar faces, that of Sugar-Lips and Zeela, revealed themselves amongst the throngs of others.

Elation filled Zayden's chest as he ran to Zeela. He stepped within a few feet of her when he suddenly stopped. He took a second glance at his wife and noticed something different about her. "Zeela, you've… changed your hair. _Again_."

Zeela laughed. Her short, pixie hair had now taken on a deep rosewood color (another common natural hair color her people are born with.)

"Do you like it?" she asked Zayden, running a few quick fingers through it. "When I was a little girl I was always jealous of other Dunmer who had red hair. I can make it permanent any time I want with a bit of magic."

"It's not very inconspicuous compared to what it was. Might draw more attention."

"Yes, well, my thieving days are quite over for now. I have you, in part, to thank for that, _Thrice Hortator._ Being the wife of such a man will draw attention too- What are you laughing for?"

"This feels just like the last time we reunited. You've changed your appearance and we're already talking to each other as if nothing has changed between us."

"But would you want it any other way?"

Zayden smiled. "Honestly… no." The two threw themselves forward and locked themselves into a tight embrace, burying their faces into the other's shoulder. He felt comfort in her touch and the waft of her sent he didn't realize he missed until that moment. He tightened his hold and didn't want to let go but knew he eventually had to. When he finally began loosening his arms Zayden was suddenly pulled in closer by Zeela, the Dunmer bringing her lips close to his ear.

"If I ask why you now have _two_ lizards in your possession," she whispered, "am I going to regret the answer I get?" she said.

"... Most likely, yes," Zayden replied. "Would it help if I said it's all Hui's fault?"

"Not a chance… But what about the other one? The ashlander?"

"He, I think, you might appreciate."

Before Zeela could ask what he meant a loud gasp came from Sugar-Lips, followed shortly by gasps of the crowd. The two turned and were met with the sight of the Khajiit practically pouncing onto the ashlander who had removed his helmet and revealed himself to be Caius Cosades. Sugar-Lips, like a kitten on cat nip, began aggressively rubbing her face against his, all whilst purring and with a giant grin on her face. Zeela, upon seeing Caius, practically tossed Zayden aside and went rushing over to embrace Caius as well.

"Jeez, I return to her and she's already forgotten I exist," Zayden said aloud to no one in particular. Zayden heard Hui laugh as he walked over to him and gave a light punch to the shoulder.

"Be thankful she's not paying any attention to Jeed-Ei," Hui advised.

"Yes, but she'll turn her attention to her soon enough… I hope you don't mind, Hui, but if she asks who Jeed-Ei is and how she's a part of our party, I'm denying all responsibility. I already told her it was all your idea."

"Fair enough. I owe you my life twice over for everything you've done for me. I'll never be able to truly repay you, but I will do everything I can."

Zeela and Sugar-Lips began taking Caius, each by an arm, leading him into South Wall. The rest of the crowd followed and left Zayden, Hui, and Jeed-Ei to catch up. Once inside and in the downstairs cantina, ale and mazte flowed like river water and both Caius and Zayden were pressured to tell their stories. Caius naturally had to keep his identity as a Blade a secret so he quickly concocted a cover story, one he agreed to tell if every listener vowed secrecy. He told the cantina that old 'friends' from back in his skooma days had tracked him down and tried to squeeze some money he still owed out of him. He handily killed his attackers, burned his home to cover loose ends, and escaped as far north as Maar Gan. The Ashlander clothes he wore, he claimed, he bought as disguise before heading east, making a wide perimeter around Red Mountain and heading back south through the Grazelands, eventually reaching Suran where, by pure coincidence, he came upon Zayden and Hui.

It was a stretch of a story, one most had trouble completely believing, but all the listeners were too happy to see Caius to object. The story's telling then concluded with Caius stating that, regrettably, he would have to be leaving Balmora again, and soon, this time never to return. He explained that he would have safety and refuge amongst the same Ashlanders he had visited many months ago that cured him of his skooma addiction and that he would depart when Zayden chose to undertake the next leg of his journey. This revelation came as a shock to absolutely everyone and the demand for an explanation came swiftly. But Caius refused to explain further, reminding everyone of their oath of secrecy, before masterfully drawing the attention of the room off of himself and onto Zayden. He poured the Imperial a fresh ale and urged him to tell _his_ stories.

Zayden reluctantly agreed and began his retelling of events at the point of reuniting with Caius and leaving Suran by pontoon. The cantina quickly became engrossed with the new stories and, in doing so, none noticed as Caius took that opportunity to quietly slip out of the room and retreat through the door behind the bar. The patrons and thieves were particularly taken by the story of the attack by the servants of Dagoth Ur and the fight between Zayden and Archmaster of House Redoran. When all was said and done spirits were lifted higher than before and the rest of the evening was spent in further celebration.

It was very late into the night when the cantina closed and thieves retired to their quarters. Zayden, Zeela, Hui, Jeed-Ei, and Sugar-Lips eventually did the same, retreating to Zeela's quarters when they all reunited with Caius. Now in private they demanded further to explain what he meant from his earlier statements. With some effort the old man relented and gave everyone the real truth.

He began by explaining to the women and reminding Hui and Zayden of how the Urshilaku Ashlanders made him an 'honorary Ashlander' when they gave him his current garb, only to then reveal that this was not _strictly_ the truth. The _real_ truth was that the tribe offered a place for Caius so that he may hide from the Blades and the Empire in exchange for meeting two conditions. The first condition was that he returned to them with the ring-bearer of 'One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star' and the second that he formally marry into their people.

This new revelation came as an even greater surprise to the private audience. Further questions came quickly but Caius had little more to offer. All he could say of the arranged marriage was that his wife was chosen by the camp's Wise Woman, Nibani Maesa, and that the girl's name was 'Senipu.' He had yet to see nor speak a single word to her. Caius, though, seemed to express no resentment of his situation, simply rationalizing that it was necessary to do and preferable to being actively hunted by the Blades whilst in regular society. "Perhaps this way," he mused aloud, "I can live out my remaining years in relative peace." He apologised to Zeela and Sugar-Lips the most, they being friends with him long before Zayden ever arrived in Vvardenfell. They were naturally the most resentful of this news but both knew it had to be done.

Sugar-Lips poured everyone a drink and proposed a toast to Caius's departure and wished him well for the future. The one toast turned into three, one after the other, and after the third Zeela pulled Zayden aside and asked that she speak to him alone. She led him out of the room, across the hall, and into his quarters, which were kept just as barren as they had always been. Zayden could tell from the look in Zeela's eyes that she was already drunk and her previous good mood had turned sour. She locked the room door before finally speaking.

"Don't misunderstand me, Zayden," she began, "I _am_ glad you've come back in one piece… But I'm also not happy with you."

"Because of the Argonian girl," Zayden guessed, knowing full well he was correct.

"Yes. _The girl… _Look, I've already made my peace with Hui. We had many days together when we first met, setting off to track you down after you were captured. I accepted the fact you two were good friends- hell, I consider him a friend myself! And I'm willing to forgive you for helping him 'escape his chains…' But how exactly _did_ you come across this new lizard, then?"

"Like I said before, it was all Hui's doing. He knew of Jeed-Ei from Dren Plantation and knew she had been sold to a brothel in Suran. He asked that we take a long route to Vivec, passing through the town, hoping we would find her. And lucky for him we did."

"So unlike Hui- who was already on the run and you helped escape- you actively freed her and stole her from right under her master's nose?"

"More or less, I suppose. Do you not approve?"

"No, I do not," she sighed. "If you want to be an abolitionist so much, Zayden, then quit the Thieves Guild and join Twin Lamps! Abolition is _not_ what the Thieves Guild does! We regulate crime and steal _things_, not _people!"_

"'People,' eh? Correct me if I'm wrong, but are slaves not classified as 'property,' and therefore do not legally count as a 'people?'" Zeela was momentarily stumped and Zayden jumped at the bit. "Seems _perfectly_ within our purview if you ask me. According to your own people's customs, I no more stole a person than I stole a piece of farming equipment. Or a cattle animal. There is no difference."

"Don't you dare dictate my people's beliefs, _Imperial_. There _is_ a difference!"

"Zeela, I don't understand why this bothers you. The Thieves Guild is well known for taking in slaves, former or escaped. Besides, you have never owned a slave yourself, so why do you care?"

"Owning slaves has always been a part of Dunmeri culture, Zayden, you know this. It is considered an ancient right of our people. One smart thing the Empire ever did was let us keep our slaves in the signing of the Armistice."

"And you never owned a slave before because…?"

"I could never afford one before I joined the guild. After I joined, well, Sugar-Lips would never allow it, for obvious reasons. Conflict of interest."

"Perhaps for the best."

"Hey, I've never judged your people for whatever the hell they believe! You're in no position to do the same, Nerevarine or not!" Zeela took a brief moment to steady her anger with Zayden. "But seriously, Zayden, it's not wise to act like an abolitionist in Vvardenfell. I realize your people have an innate repulsion to the practice, but yours is a minority opinion here. If you're not going to stop all this abolitionist crap for my sake, do it to prevent the native Dunmer population from turning against you and wanting your head on a spike!"

Zayden grimaced at the idea of having to abandoning such a deep-felt objection for purely pragmatic reasons, but he knew Zeela was correct in this matter. If he indeed wanted to continue to change further minds against slavery he was not going to do it alone and not by sheer force of will. His status as Nerevarine was already not a singular pillar of guidance for the Dunmer so attempting to act as such would be foolish. Change would happen slowly and in small steps, if it happened at all.

"Very well," Zayden relented with a defeated sigh. "I guess I have little choice but to temper my impulses on this matter… Please don't mention this to Hui or Jeed-Ei. I fear neither of them will be able to appreciate the position I'm in."

"Ok," said Zeela. "And I'll make sure, in the future, you don't make the same mistakes."

"'In the future'?" Zayden repeated. "Does this mean-?"

"I'm coming along this time, with you, to meet with the Ashlander tribes. You'll need _some_ connection to their people by race- me- and I won't hear a single objection from you about it. Besides, your past actions have proven that you can't be trusted to not put yourself in further trouble with the natives. You'll need a woman and a Dunmer to stop yourself from getting killed, and thankfully I'm both."

"You'll hear no objections here," Zayden chuckled. "It feels like these past several weeks we've been apart for most of them. It always feels comforting to return to your side."

"Agreed," Zeela smiled. "Now kiss me, _Nerevarine_, and let's return to the others before they start looking for us."

The two stepped forward into each other's embrace and held like they did earlier that day, sharing in a single long kiss before finally returning to Zeela's quarters where everyone was still sitting. It seemed that the Khajiit was already in the process of making demands on Hui, creating a list of alchemical concoctions she wanted made in exchange for Jeed-Ei's bounty. In Zeela and Zayden's absence the Khajiit had already devised a way that the price on Jeed-Ei's head may be negotiated if both he and Zayden worked extra hard before their next departure. In a way Zayden didn't mind this. Perhaps returning to his working roots would help clear his mind of all the extra-ordinary that had happened recently.

The next morning, before Zayden awoke, Hui was already being put to work making smoke bombs, noise makers, as well as many other alchemical concoctions a thief may utilize. He both relished in his work but at the same time resented his respite in Balmora being turned into a working one. After a quick breakfast Zayden was sent with a new recruit, a 'toad' Zayden never met before, to High Town (Balmora's rich district) for a collection run. The fresh blood was a younger Redguard woman who looked still hungover from her initiation. She knew next to nothing about Zayden or the Nerevarine Prophecy which made introductions easy.

The two left a pair of hours before noon and the task at first seemed routine, the first few dues collected without incident. Trouble came when the pair went to a household whose members were of House Hlaalu. The residents quickly recognized Zayden as their Hortator and began making demands and expressing their concerns about him, namely his dual-allegiance between they and House Redoran. Zayden tried to shift away from the topic and keep to the current matter at hand but to no avail. The protection money was eventually paid but at great expense of time.

From that point forward Zayden's reputation preceded him with a number of houses and homes they visited. What was meant to be an easy collection run from a relatively easy district instead played out like a quagmire with more and more people making their distrust toward the Thrice Hortator known. The collection took hours longer than it normally would have and left a bad impression on the Toad. Zayden made it up to the woman by buying her a late lunch and a few drinks but it helped little. The two returned to South Wall by dusk with their task finally complete, the Redguard requesting a new mentor.

Hui was still working when Zayden returned, even employing Jeed-Ei and Zeela to help measure and grind ingredients. Both complained of numb hands and their fingers stained with plant and mineral dyes. Hui told Zayden that in a few days they might have a good enough amount of pocket change to aid them in the next leg of the journey but things would be tight. When Zayden asked about Caius the three had little to say, only that he slipped away again and was now renting a room in the commercial district, adding that Caius promised he would be ready to leave whenever Zayden was.

Before dawn of the next day Zayden was assigned a new task by Sugar-Lips. He would be sent back to Pelagiad to personally bring back some due money from the Halfway Tavern. Bad memories of his previous time there came rushing back and Zayden asked if anyone else could be sent instead. The request was flatly rejected and that morning the Imperial found himself upon his guar making the trip south.

The quiet hamlet was very much as he remembered leaving it. Some of the town's residents who recognized Zayden came over to greet him as he hitched his mount to a post outside the tavern. Inside the establishment was busy with its late afternoon crowd. Almost immediately a familiar patron cheered Zayden's name and much of the rest of the tavern joined in. Zayden greeted everyone back and before he had a moment to scan the room for Ahnassi he was caught by surprise by a tackling embrace from Tappius. The Imperial was beside himself with glee seeing Zayden once again. He quickly sat Zayden down at a table, snagged a bottle of Cyrodillic Brandy from behind the bar and the two began to drink, Tappius quickly demanding to hear the stories he heard about Zayden becoming Thrice Hortator.

Zayden began to recount his tales in a brief fashion and part way through Ahnassi appeared, descending from the inn's stairwell. She looked across the room, instantly locked her piercing gaze upon Zayden, and froze. Her fur stiffened and her pupils quickly dilated as if she were preparing to attack. She bared her fangs as she approached the table and emitted from deep within her throat a threatening growl.

"Zayden must wish to die," Ahnassi hissed. "That can be only explanation why he returns. Ahnassi will be glad to grant such a favor."

"Believe me, it is not my choice that I'm here," Zayden replied calmly. "This is Sugar-Lips's doing, by some cruel joke of hers. I'm here to collect last month's share of profits. Once business is settled I'll be out of both of your hair."

"Ahnassi hears rumors of you. 'Thrice Hortator.' 'Ring-Bearer of Moon-and-Star.' Ahnassi did not believe them, of course. But since you are here now…" Zayden got the hint and held up his right hand to display the ring to both she and Tappius. The Khajiit's eyes softened and betrayed her surprise. "So stories are true, then?"

"Zayden has been telling me about everything that's happened since he left," Tappius said to Ahnassi. "It's wild stuff! Telvanni wizards. An attack by servants of Dagoth Ur. A fight to the death with the Redoran Archmaster! I guess it _was_ all for the better you left, Zayden. Things are much more dull here! Ha-ha-ha!"

Ahnassi secretly wanted to hear more but would not dare let herself act weaker in front of Zayden. "Well, while Zayden has been away," the Khajiit interrupted, "Ahnassi has been hard at work as well. Tavern grows, many brothers and sisters pass through. Ahnassi learns to sneak and steal. She is Operative now."

"So you outrank me, then?" Zayden stated evenly. "Congratulations."

Ahnassi was too angry to tell that Zayden was being genuine with his praise and took it as him being dismissive. "Ahnassi also marry Tappius," she quickly added to further drive her point across. "He is good man. Strong and dependable. _Loyal to me._"

"Again, congratulations," said Zayden, taking his eyes off Ahnassi and back to Tappius. "So can I expect tiny kittens running around here soon, then?"

"I know that was a joke," Tappius chucked, "because you know as well as I that that's pretty much impossible between Men and Khajiit. Though, to be honest, she works me over like she thinks she'll overcome genetics through pure strength of will."

"Shut up!" Ahnassi hissed at Tappius. "Ahnassi will get Zayden's money and put an end to your filthy talk." The Khajiit stormed off and back upstairs. Tappius and Zayden were too busy laughing to notice that she snatched the bottle of brandy from the table as she went.

"So are you trying to make me jealous as well?" Zayden half-joked to Tappius. "How have things been with you two _actually?_"

"I kept my word," the Imperial replied. "I take care of her and the business and she takes care of me. I'm not trying to rub your nose in it- unlike Ahnassi- but we are happy together. Besides, we both received the news that Zeela returned, so it looks like your patience paid off in the end."

"I guess it did," Zayden sighed. "Still, I wish I could tell Ahnassi how sorry I am for the way I treated her. Looking back it was clear I was in the wrong."

"But you had pledged yourself to another. Choosing one meant breaking the heart of the other, no matter what. I think deep down Ahnassi understands your reasoning, Zayden. Of course she'll never admit to it."

"I hope that's true," said Zayden, reaching for the bottle of brandy that was no longer there. "But that doesn't mean I was right."

"What _is_ right, Zayden? Look, this may be the brandy talking, but it doesn't seem to me either one of us are anyone to ask 'what is right?' or 'what is just?' Take the tavern as an example. We tried to expel a Nord from her room, who was by all accounts of the law doing nothing wrong, which sparked a fight that killed her and an innocent woman from whom we were trying to steal her business, all to further the exploits of a corrupt, Empire-backed criminal mafia organization. Does _any_ of that sound like the actions of people who are 'right?'"

"Asks the sword-for-hire," Zayden retorted.

"Exactly my point!"

"And so now one questions if we deserve any of the good that comes our way? An interesting to ponder, Tappius. But I haven't the answer. And I doubt anyone ever truly does."

"Spoken like a true Nerevarine, for what my Imperial-dog opinion is worth."

"At least _you_ think I am worthy. Zeela thinks my abolition streak puts my status of 'Savior of the Dunmer Race' in doubt. It's tough to believe being on the side of ending slavery might be the _wrong_ path to take."

"'When in the Imperial City, do as the Imperials do,'" quoted the Imperial Tappius. Zayden shrugged but said nothing further to that point.

The conversation trailed off from there until Ahnassi returned with a small coin pouch with her dues. With business concluded Zayden gave his goodbyes and made his brisk leave of the tavern, returning to his mount. Before he set off, though, he noticed attached to the pouch a small envelope. Inside was a lock of her fur and a short note.

_"Zayden is still a bastard, but Ahnassi still loves him."_

He returned to Balmora once again in the late afternoon, this time before the sun turned orange. The due money was passed on to Sugar-Lips and the Khajiit told Zayden that tomorrow he would have another day of protection money collecting, this time in the Labor District. She would have the same Redguard as before with him and that this time he had better leave her with a good impression.

That day of collecting was marred by Zayden's reputation yet again but this time for different reasons. Much of the dues were collected by Dunmer who, like Zeela, shared great hesitation if indignation toward the Bearer-of-Moon-and-Star. They expressed clearly and openly their concerns at the uncertain future his presence foretold. All things told the day's work ended at a reasonable time and without any violence but the whole experience left Zayden feeling like a great weight was crushing his heart and shoulders. The only further consolation Zayden could render from the day was a renewed respect from the Redguard woman, he having her sympathies.

Sugar-Lips's only orders for the next day were for Zayden to get supplies ready and regulated for his departure the next morning. She stated that Hui, behind the scenes, had been working up a storm and his efforts yielded much. Zayden quickly devised a list of tasks, Hui donated a small portion of the profits he had accrued over the last few days, and after a quick breakfast the next morning he set off from South Wall upon his guar to accomplish them. His first stop was at a leather worker so he would have made a new sheath for his new daedric shortsword. Once that was settled he made for the market to restock, replace, and replenish on food, supplies, and other sundries.

The journey to the northern coast of Vvardenfell, even by guar mounts, would take at least a week under the most ideal of conditions. Compared to silt striders, guar were not as fast and required occasional periods to rest, effectively doubling travel time. The time, as an example, from Balmora to Caldera alone- which took half a day by strider- would most likely take from dawn to dusk by guar. And after Zeela and Hui's stunt of hijacking a silt strider, the beastmasters of Vvardenfell would talk amongst themselves and quickly forbid them from hiring one in the future. This was just as well, for the price of a single party hiring a strider for many days was greatly expensive and the places Zayden and his company needed to go were places striders would not.

When Zayden thought he had purchased all he needed he returned to South Wall and began distributing the effects between the three beasts at first by himself, then with Zeela's assistance. New deep blue blankets were put underneath the saddles for the beast's comfort and while all guar had a certain share of food and drink rations and personal effects, all extra supplies were packed onto one guar in particular, leaving enough space for only one rider. Zayden correctly assumed this beast would be for Caius, with Hui and Jeed-Ei atop a second, and Zeela and Zayden atop the lead beast.

Zayden followed Zeela back into her quarters where Hui was finishing up the last of their concoctions. For their few days of work, combined with what Zayden earned, the company had roughly five hundred gold to split evenly between the five of them. It would be enough, if not spent unwisely, to last them through the next leg of the journey.

-o0o-

Zayden, to his embarrassment, was the last of the five to awake and get ready. He eventually joined Caius, Hui, and Jeed-Ei in the empty cantina to an already prepared meal platter, served up by Phane and partially Zeela. It was piled high with a traditional Dunmeri breakfast of scambled kwama eggs, mudcrab meat, and saltrice, served alongside weak mazte. Zeela, according to Hui, had already eaten and was making a final check of the guar before departure. Everyone ate their fill and once finished made one last check of everyone's personal equipment. The four said their goodbyes to Sugar-Lips, Caius's being the most heartfelt and difficult of all, before ascending the stairwell to leave the cornerclub.

Zeela was adjusting the muzzle straps of the three guar when the others reunited with her. Zeela's appearance changed once again, this time by clothing, and it nearly made Zayden trip over his own feet. For the first time, in all the years he knew her, he was finally laying eyes on _her_ sneaking suit. Her suit, like Zayden's, was mostly of dark grays, but unlike his it was almost entirely light, breathable cloth that possessed no real armor to speak of. The focus of the suit was clearly for maximum lightness, speed, and full maneuverability with a base of a simple shirt, pants, and light leather shoes. Her forearms, calves, and chest were wrapped and bound in long strips of cloth to keep her profile as slim as possible. On her waist and hips were wide, thick belts that held many bomb and utility pouches, several thin throwing needles and pouches for throwing stars, a brown leather blackjack, and a pair each of daggers and shortswords made from bronze-colored Dwemer metal. Wrapped atop her head and neck was a similar tagelmust to Jeed-Ei, also dark gray.

"How is it I've never seen you wear this before!?" Zayden exclaimed.

Zeela turned to greet the party and immediately laughed at Zayden's reaction. "I forget, this is your first time seeing my 'uniform', isn't it?" she grinned. "You approve, clearly."

"Indeed. From where did you get your Dwemer blades?"

"From the ruin Mzahnch, in the deep southern end of Azura's Coast. Got sent there twenty-five years ago to retrieve some mining schematics after a nearby mining operation accidentally broke unto the ruins. The automations started attacking the miners immediately and they had to abandon the tunnel with all their equipment inside. Every time they went back they were always get pushed away.

So, they hired me to sneak in and get their supplies and collapse the tunnel with satchel charges once I was finished. In the end they got what they wanted, I got paid, but I personally walked away with a lot more."

"Maybe I'll finally be able to see your skills in action as well?"

"Maybe. Anyway, I packed some extra cloth away to make some more head coverings for the rest of you. We'll all need them once we enter the Ashlands, gods forbid we encounter any ash storms. Also, I bought these last night for just the same." Zeela retrieved from the nearest saddle bag four pairs of goggles similar to the ones of Caius's helm, fashioned from chitin frames and clear glass for the lenses. She passed the items out between everyone and pocketed a pair for herself.

Zayden turned to the others and asked if there was absolutely anything else that needed to be done or bought before they set off. When none answered in the affirming he declared that they leave at once. Just as Zayden planned he mounted and took the reins of one guar with Zeela sitting behind him, Hui and Jeed-Ei mounting another, and Caius by himself with the "pack guar." With a gentle kick to each of the beast's sides the company was off.

The streets of Balmora were mostly empty at this early hour so everyone's departure went relatively unnoticed by both civilian and guard alike. They crossed the Odai River and left the city from its northern archway, following the road northeast for a few hours before it connected to the same main, true-north road the striders took. From there it was a nearly straight shot to Caldera. The day began with some light clouds but as noon approached a cool breeze from the west foretold rain in the evening.

The party stopped around midday to snack on rations and allow the guar to graze on nearby grass, shrubbery, and for one beast a wild rat whose curiosity got the better of itself. After a brief smoke the five set back off to have the predicted rains come a pair of hours later. They came as only a drizzle but with high winds that drove the droplets sideways. The party was relieved to reach the town by that evening and take up a room in the local inn, "Shenk's Shovel." The establishment was Thieves Guild friendly and the party was able to have a warm rest as the winds and drizzle continued throughout the night and into the morning.

The weather finally died down just in time for the group to enter into the Ashlands by the same narrow corridor Zayden and Sugar-Lips took many months ago. New weather, however, continued to work against the five within the new region, a modest ash storm already beginning to simmer. Zeela stopped the group to retrieve cloth to teach Zayden and Hui how to make headwraps of their own. They, along with their new goggles, proved to shelter their faces from the winds and sands well, but the storm picked up and slowed forward progression dramatically. The guar were hindered by the storm and it was a very late hour when the party finally reached Ald'ruhn and the "Rat In The Pot Inn" for their second night's rest.

Aengoth the Jeweler greeted Zayden and Zeela the next morning and shared breakfast with their party. The Bosmer was quickly captivated by all the astounding tales Zayden, with help from the others, told in regards to the intervening time since they last met, so much so that Aengoth could barely believe what he was hearing. He left the party with a parting gift of a bottle of sujamma and directions to the next town, Maar Gan. The regions to the north were criss-crossed with narrow valleys that created no direct route. Aengoth further predicted the storms could continue for at least another few days, making travel that much more difficult.

Eventually the party geared and bundled back up to depart from Ald'ruhn. Even with a map provided by the Wood Elf further navigation north indeed proved difficult. The party made camp for the first time of their journey that evening in a cramped annex of rock that could barely fit their largest tent within. The soil was poor to keep the stakes in place and every large gust threatened to send the whole structure rolling. But thankfully it held, a small fire was built in its center, and everyone managed some shuteye.

The fourth day of travel proved to be just as stressful as the one before, filled with winds, stinging sand, and a displaced sense of direction that the map failed to fix. The five travelled with little pause for the entire day unaware that they made little true progress toward Maar Gan. By the afternoon of the fifth day, with the winds finally beginning to slightly weaken, the party was truly and utterly lost. They made camp that evening in the lowest spirits they had yet encountered. They hoped the next day would bring better tidings and, perhaps by fate, the next morning brought just that.

The company was awoken by the sounds of horse hooves and speaking voices whispering over the winds. Hui was the first to scramble from his sleeping roll and out of the tent to greet the passersby. The new arrivals turned out to be a hunting caravan of Nords native to Skyrim. The caravan stopped and shared with Zayden and his party, for them, a second breakfast. Over "breakfast mead" the hunters revealed that they had come to Vvardenfell on the promise of exotic game, namely cliff racers. They came by boat from Dawnstar and followed Tamriel's northern coast eastward, making a brief stop at a dock of Fort Frostmoth in Solstheim before making their final dock in Ald Velothi where they set off on their steeds. They had been in the wilds for over two months already and had many skinned hides to prove their skill.

Interestingly, in spite of them being their intended prey, the hunters had little trophies of the cliff racers to show for. They had been told the skies were filled with the winged devils but, in their many days of hunting, had only six under their belts. Zeela confided in the group that, indeed, she also noticed a decreased number of the creatures previously. Jokingly, one of the hunters offered his explanation as to why, bringing up a humorous encounter he and the rest of the caravan shared in. Apparently, on their eight day in Vvardenfell, the Nords encountered a crazed Dunmer man, nearly naked and armed with only an axe, pursuing a low-flying flock of cliff racers with an animated fury. He managed to cut two down within the Nords' sight before they went off and away, the beasts squawking with fright and the mer roaring like a madman.

Zayden told the Nords that he and his party were lost and asked if they could direct them to Maar Gan. In exchange for a hundred gold and their unopened sujamma they were happy to oblige. The two parties set off within the hour, the Nords taking point and making quick navigation for a land the people were foreign to. By late afternoon they all finally came upon the town and departed each other's companies.

Maar Gan was very much like Ald'ruhn. It was a Redoran town, its architecture primarily of animal carapaces, the town dominated by its temple, but after three days and two nights of the infernal ash storms Zayden and his party desired nothing more than a comfortable rest. They immediately sought out the town's inn and rested for the remaining daylight hours, awaking in the evening to enjoy a hot supper. The next morning Zeela set off alone to a tradehouse where she acquired a more detailed map of the region, as well as ask around for a more up-to-date location of Urshilaku Camp. From the map they decided upon a wide and dormant lava channel, Foyada Bani-Dad, that by two more days' travel would bring them to the northern coast of Vvardenfell and to the Sea of Ghosts. From there they could follow the coast east to where the camp was said to still be.

By the time of their next departure the storms had mercifully died out, replaced with clear blue skies. A main road from Mar Gan heading northeast led directly to the foyada that stretched in a very straight direction northwest. The next two days of travel were very easy going and helped lift the spirits of the group. Late morning of that second day in the foyada brought with it the smell of salt water and the sight of the Sea of Ghosts. As intended they went from there east, now keeping watchful for any sign of Ashlanders.

They rode for four more hours, passing north of a daedric shrine to Mehrunes Dagon the name of which neither Caius or Zeela could remember. Not long after passing it, though, the riding party happened upon a freshly discarded campsite. The fire had been smothered with sand but hot embers still burned beneath. It caused everyone worry but they moved on from there. It was not long after that that the owners of the fire revealed themselves.

From behind them, all at once, a group of seven guar-riders rushed toward Zayden and company. Each rider was a Dunmer clad in chitin or netch leather and armed with a tall spear. The riders quickly enclosed the five and aimed the points of their weapons at them, keeping them in their steps. After a tense moment their leader approached and began demanding orders in Dunmeri. He quickly became agitated when no one immediately replied. Then, cautiously, Caius raised his hand and spoke back in the same language. Even without knowing Dunmeri himself, Zayden could tell Caius's words were stiff and stilted. He looked over his shoulder to Zeela and whispered to her.

"What is he saying?" he asked her.

"Basically," she replied, "he's saying who we all are and where we are heading. His Dunmeri is quite bad-"

"I can tell."

"- But he is getting the message across well enough." Caius conversed with the leader for another long moment before he removed his helm and revealed his Imperial identity. At once all the riders lifted their spears toward the sky and relaxed. The lead rider then turned his attention to Zayden and brought his beast alongside his. He spoke to Zayden in Cyrodillic.

"This man, Caius, is friend to our tribe," said the Dunmer. "He claims you are the Nerevarine and you have proof. Do you, outlander?" Zayden nodded and held up the hand that bore "One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star." The rider recognized it instantly and barked orders in Dunmeri to the other riders. They broke their ring and took up new positions beside the three guar of Zayden's party.

"I am Shimsun," he greeted, "Guide of Tribe Urshilaku. We have been awaiting your arrival, Nerevarine Zayden. Nibani Maesa awaits your presence. Follow us."


	17. Urshilaku Camp

Chapter 17: Urshilaku Camp

Now under the protection of the seven riders, Shimsun led Zayden's company further eastward and along the coastline. After forty minutes they cut hard to the south to follow a path that led up a cascade of rolling hills that concluded at a high peak that overlooked the Urshilaku Tribe Camp. It was a wide and spread out collection of over one hundred structures mostly made from wooden frames and tanned netch leather shell. Most were yurts, each made for one family to live in, with shoulder high walls and domed roofs, measuring roughly twenty feet across. Dotted amongst them were several larger open-air canopies that typically held within them market stalls or slave pens. A few netch farms, guar stables, and tall guard towers dotted the outer boundaries and several docks, each housing several small fishing boats, stretched like fingers into the waters to the north.

The caravan descended down the other side of the hills into the camp and used a main dirt thoroughfare to cut toward the camp's center. Many of the people- all Dunmer, all no doubt direct descendents of the first Chimer to claim Resdayn from the Nords centuries ago- stopped to gawk and stare at the passing outsiders. Those that did not stare rushed away as if fearful for their lives. The dress of the commoner Ashlander was tunics and skirts of woven wickwheat stalks dyed in deep reds and blues and blacks. Many wore face paint of similar colors and braided wooden beads and sea shells into their long hair, both men and women.

Shimsun eventually led the newcomers to one of the largest canopy structures near the center of the camp, a semi-circle open on the northern face. Inside the canopy were five smaller yurts arranged in a u-shape, a tall fire pit burning within the center. The canopy's frame was adorned with charms, blue paper lanterns, and wooden wind chimes that clicked with light, pleasant hollow sounds. Zayden was ordered to wait outside the structure as Shimsun entered. He returned a few moments later with a fierce looking Dunmer man with long, braided black hair. He wore bonemold bracers and leg guards over netch leather pants and tunic. At his waist was sheathed a similar short spear to the one Caius had. He took one look at Zayden before ordering the five to "Dismount and present yourselves to me!"

All five did as they were instructed. Zeela without being reminded retrieved the cloth roll of Great House gifts and carried it with her. Zayden approached the mer and gave a deep, respectful bow. Caius came next and did the same. Again, like with Shimsun, the Dunmer quickly recognized the old Imperial and greeted him warmly. "Welcome back, honored friend of Nibani Maesa," he said. "Have you returned with the one you sought? Is this second Imperial 'Moon-and-Star?'"

"Yes," replied Caius. "With no doubt, he is Indoril Incarnate." Zayden once more presented his ring to prove the statement.

"I am Zayden, named Hortator of Houses Redoran, Hlaalu, and Telvanni," said the Imperial. "With me is my wife, Zeela, my companion Hui, and his wife Jeed-Ei."

"I am Sul-Matuul," said the Dunmer, "Ashkhan of Tribe Urshilaku and its greatest warrior." He gave a second look at Zayden's company and seemed to disapprove. "You and your woman have the look of thieves. And you dress your slaves too finely."

"Hui is my _companion_, as I stated," Zayden forcefully insisted. "These two Argonians are free peoples, and you will treat them as such."

The Ashkhan tensed at such a challenge to his authority, as did the warriors within earshot. Caius shifted uneasy in his steps and was about to speak again but the Ashkhan then suddenly burst into a hearty laugh. "Dishonorable thief or not, you conduct yourself boldly!" he commended. "Commendable! Perhaps I misjudged you. Come then, Zayden. The Wise Woman awaits. You may permit your company audience, if you wish."

"I do," Zayden replied. Sul-Matuul directed the five to one of the yurts within and all six entered. The confinement within was cramped, a small pit of hot coals simmered in the yurt's center, a steaming iron kettle suspended over them, with small woven mats circled around it. A bedroll, several woven baskets, clay jugs, and wooden chests were positioned along the back wall. Sitting cross-legged on the bedroll was an aged Dunmer woman with beaded silver hair and long brown robe. She met the newcomers of her home with an even, expected gaze.

She wordlessly motioned to the mats and everyone took a seat upon one, the Ashkhan sitting to the old woman's right. Again without words the woman reached for several clay cups and began measuring tea leaves into each, pouring hot water atop them and passing them around. As she did this Sul-Matuul began to prepare a large peace pipe with a greenish-brown tobacco. Once everyone had their cup and had tasted the tea did she finally speak.

"Welcome, newcomers," she began, "travellers from far, with some farther than others. Welcome back, Caius. You left us last to seek out the Nerevarine, and now Urshilaku Ashkhan informs me you return with him."

"Indeed I have," Caius replied. "When I first reunited with this man he already bore Moon-and-Star upon his finger. Then in Vivec City I witnessed with my own eyes the same ring put upon the fingers of two temple ordinators, both dying instantly as a result. I then witnessed-"

Nibani Maesa held up a hand to stop Caius from speaking. "We must determine the legitimate identity of the Nerevarine by tradition," she stated. "The fulfillment of the Seven Trials, as seen in the Seven Visions, must be recognized in their order… The First Trial: 'On a certain day to uncertain parents, Incarnate Moon-and-Star reborn.'" The Wise Woman met Zayden's eyes and asked "Has the First Trial been fulfilled, Imperial Zayden?"

"Before arriving in Vvardenfell," Zayden answered, "I suffered amnesia of all memories of my life before arriving here. By these means the identity of my parents _is_ uncertain."

Nibani pondered this statement. "A valid interpretation… The Second Trial: Neither blight nor age can harm him, the Curse-of-Flesh before him flies.' The 'Curse-of-Flesh' is reference to the dreaded Corprus, creation of the Sharmat Dagoth Ur."

"I was attacked by a creature of the Corprus and infected by the disease shortly after retrieving the ring," Zayden explained. "I was taken to the tower of Tel Fyr, and under the care of its master Divayth Fyr he was able to cure me of its ill effects."

"Irrelevant. It is understood that the Second Trial states that effects of age and _all _disease are rendered from the Nerevarine's body. Have you any proof of _this_?" When Zayden shook his head Nibani Maesa set the teapot aside and placed a shallow metal disc into the coals, allowing it to heat up. "We have ways of finding out, though. Give to me a sample of your blood, Zayden. I shall place it within the dish and imbibe its vapors. I am trained in ancient healing arts and from its scent I can read your vitality."

Zayden was in no position to doubt or deny the bizarre request. When the dish grew hot Zayden hovered his left hand over the dish and using his smallest knife to cut and bleed a finger into it. The blood bubbled and steamed upon contact and Nibani Maesa wafted the fumes into her nose.

The woman gave a long, drawn out hum as she contemplated the blood. It seemed as if she entered a light trance. "Peculiar …" she finally spoke at length. "Your blood has remarkable youth, for one of your true age. Your youth surpasses the Altmer; I see uncountable _centuries_ of life ahead of you… Immortality…"

"Immortal?!" Zayden repeated. The looks of his company shared in his bewilderment "But how can that be?"

"The Dwemer," Hui cut in. "Yagrum Bagarn! He was infected with Corprus and he lived for thousands of years as a result. Extended life must be another one of the 'benefits' of the disease."

Zayden had no time for the crushing reality of immortal life to set in before Nibani Maesa reclaimed the room with her attention. "I still detect the faintest taint of the Curse-of-Flesh upon you, but all ill effects have been purged. I wonder if the wizard truly cured you… Difficult to say for certain… Perhaps another valid _interpretation…_?"

The Wise Woman broke from her state just as the Ashkhan finished preparing the peace pipe. He lit the weed and smoked of it before passing it onto Nibani, who then passed it to the five guests. "The Third Trial," she continued. "'In caverns dark Azura's eye sees, And makes to shine the moon and star.' It has been already determined that the Imperial Zayden bears 'One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star' upon his fingers and still draws breath. Caius further claims the death of two others who attempted to wear the ring." The others of Zayden's party nodded their heads in affirmation, they all having witnessed the event themselves. "If this is the case, then the trial seems definitively fulfilled."

"The Fourth Trial," she continued. "'A stranger's voice unites the Houses. Three Halls call him Hortator." Zeela passed down the roll of cloth to the Ashkhan and he laid it out on the floor in front of the Wise Woman. Neatly placed inside were the three gifts: the Ring of the Hortator given by the Redoran, the Belt of the Hortator given by the Hlaalu, and the Robe of the Hortator given by the Telvanni. She took a long moment with each item to examine it and eventually determined all three genuine.

Sul-Matuul rolled the cloth back up and returned it to Zeela. After yet another pause of contemplation the spirits of the Wise Woman seemed to lift. She ordered the Ashkhan to take back everyone's tea and replace it with sujamma.

"Welcome, Nerevarine Zayden," she greeted to the Imperial. "Urshilaku Tribe and we two of the Nerevarine Cult welcome you as an honored friend and guest of our people."

"Thank you," said Zayden, smiling and bowing back to she and the Ashkhan. "Why do you say 'we two' of the cult? Are not the Ashlander people as a whole believers?"

"No," answered Sul-Matuul. "Are all peoples living within the Cyrodillic Empire believers of their Emperor's dragon divinity? We are a people who, at our inception, deny the influence of the Tribunal false-gods. We are a hearty people who survive off the land and embrace its hardships. Belief in Indoril's reincarnation is not core to the Ashlander's existence, and so, many do not believe. But Nibani Maesa, as a faithful servant of Azura, believes. I am the last Ashkhan of the four Great Tribes that still believes. With what you have just said and shown we readily recognize you as the Nerevarine, Zayden, but fulfillment of the Fifth Trial will prove harder by the other Great Tribes. You will need the support of each of their Wise Women and their Ashkhan to fulfill the Fifth Trial."

"What can you tell me of the other tribes, then?" asked Zayden. "Anything I might learn can help."

"To our east, where the Sea of Ghosts meets Azura's Coast, sits Ahemmusa Camp. They are like us, unchanged for a number of generations and traditional in their ways. But as of late they have come upon hard times by afflictions of famine, storms, and attacks from blighted creatures. Any assistance you can offer them would no doubt be greatly appreciated.

The closest tribe south of Ahemmusa is the Zainab. They hold claim to an ebony mine that gains them great wealth from the rest of Vvardenfell. Their Ashkhan is a peculiar one with an odd obsession with the Telvanni. Other than that they are a stable camp.

Beyond them, into the Molag Amur, is Tribe Erabenimsun. They are a tribe that produces many prideful warriors and their culture reflects this. They are isolationist from the other tribes and because of their distance to us we have not heard from them in a long time. We can not offer anything more."

"Everything you have offered already is greatly appreciated," said Zayden. "So does Urshilaku ask nothing more of me to prove my status? You would have me do nothing more?"

"Officially, no," said the Ashkhan. "We agreed that if all the previous trials were satisfied that we would not hinder your first step. That being said, I _personally_ would ask a little more, though you are free to refuse. I would wish to see your skills in combat, Imperial, with the weapon of our people." Zayden glanced at the unique spear he and Caius shared and the Ashkhan confirmed with a nod.

"Very well," Zayden replied. "Do we fight to thrice blood, then?"

"Ha! Such are rules for weak nobility! Urshilaku has great healers. We will fight, Zayden, until one of us can no longer stand! Do not worry, wife-of-Zayden. He will remain in one piece when I am finished with him."

"I would, for your sake, hope so," said Zeela, "because if you didn't, not the Aedra and Daedra combined would be able to mend you back together when _I_ was finished with _you_."

Again Sul-Matuul gave a hearty laugh. The warrior seemed to respect strength of conviction and already he and Zeela had changed his position on them. When the Ashkhan stopped laughing the Wise Woman turned her attention to Caius. "Blade Caius Cosades," she said, addressing him. "You have accomplished what you set out to achieve and returned with the Nerevarine. In doing so we will keep our promise to you and offer safety in Urshilaku Camp for your remaining years, free from the hunting eyes of the Empire."

Caius gave the woman a deep bow. "I am forever grateful for this," he told her. "In return, I am willing to fulfill my duties to the tribe."

"Indeed. Senipu has been anxiously awaiting your return. Her parents have been insistent on performing the ceremony as soon as possible. They intend to do it tonight." Finally, since before the journey to the camp, the name of Senipu had been dared uttered. The other four of the party turned to watch how Caius would act. The old man simply smiled, gave another deep bow, and excused himself from the yurt, leaving the four with quick parting words. "Nibani Maesa will show you to the ceremony. After that, though, we may not see each other again for a few days. Nothing to worry about. Stay within the camp and rest, prepare for the next leg of the journey. Goodbye for now, everyone." He then made his exit.

"It's still hard to imagine the old man getting married," Zeela mused aloud, "after knowing him for so many years. But why would Caius be away for a few days after?"

"Because of our tradition," said Nibani Maesa. "It is tradition that the newly-wed ride into the wilderness to seek seclusion and consummate the marriage, only to return home when the deed is done."

"I-I see. Tribal people seem to waste no time," Zeela remarked. "Who, may I ask, is 'Senipu?' _I_ am friend to Caius as well, Wise Woman."

"Senipu is a great-granddaughter of mine, only child to one of my grandsons, a netch farmer," Nibani replied. "She is young and just entered womanhood. Be at ease, wife-of-Nerevarine. For the service Caius has done for us, I would not offer him anyone but my prettiest as a wife." The explanation seemed to satisfy Zeela's curiosity. "As for the rest of you, Nerevarine and company, you are welcome in Urshilaku Camp as honored guests. Feel free to stay as long as you desire before you continue on."

"We can provide a yurt for your stay," added the Ashkhan, "and a slave to attend to all your needs. I'll send messenger-hounds out this evening to the other Great Tribes to warn them of your arrival. I will also help spread the word within the camp and make sure you are all fairly treated. But do not get too comfortable, Nerevarine. Tomorrow we shall fight!"

"I look forward to it, Ashkhan," Zayden grinned. "... Wise Woman, I wish to speak with you further. In private." Zeela and Hui immediately began to question Zayden why but he was quick to respond. "There are some things I feel only she can answer, things the rest of you need not concern yourselves with." Again the others began to object. "Everyone, _please_. I shouldn't be long."

"I agree," said Nibani Maesa. "Ashkhan, see to it the Nerevarine's party be brought to their yurt and their every need is met. The Nerevarine and I will continue in private." Sul-Matuul stood up and began escorting the remaining three out of the Wise Woman's yurt leaving she and Zayden alone. "What do you wish to know, Nerevarine?"

"I… I have had nagging doubts ever since I came into possession of Moon-and-Star," said Zayden. "When I first bore the ring I was struck with a powerful vision. I was imbued with the memories of Indoril and my past life. The memories are fragmented but strong and I can only recall glimpses at a time, even now. I know they are real and meant to give my existence context, to help me understand why I am on the path I currently walk, and yet…"

"You question if they are 'true,' if perhaps there is a greater context you are being denied. Or worse yet, if you are being lied to."

"Is it possible that this might be the case?"

"I have lived many years and have guided _two_ Nerevarine hopefuls before you to the Cavern of the Incarnate, only for them both to die within it. Our tribe and no others hold any stories of any others wearing this ring and living. You are alone in this quality, and this proves your legitimacy as Indoril Incarnate. Your visions were true."

"I feel deep within me the betrayal of Indoril from the Tribunal and know it to be real; he was murdered by his most trusted general, friend, and wife. I sense within me the dread of a future without the Nerevarine Prophecy's fulfillment, a future where Dagoth Ur is left unchecked and would destroy the world with his twisted dream. I know in my heart he must be killed and I would see the Tribunal held to account. But to do the former means, inevitably, the death of the latter. My actions would destroy the Tribunal and inflict a great wound upon the Dunmer, a people already cursed… Must these things play out as they are foretold? Is there not another way?"

Nibani Maesa suddenly appeared angered by Zayden's questions, her wrinkled brow furrowing deep. "It is as I feared…" she sighed. "The Blades have done you a great disservice by bringing you to the Cavern of The Incarnate before you were ready, without fully explaining the weight of your existence. You fail to comprehend that the path you walk has nothing to do with what _you_ desire, Zayden. Your feelings of doubt and loss of control? From the moment you first put on Moon-and-Star you lost your free will."

Zayden balked at his answer but managed barely to keep himself from shouting something back. Nibani continued. "Your path, Zayden, was set many centuries ago, when Azura cursed the Dunmer people for the Tribunal's treachery and declared Indoril's reincarnation as their retribution. You live, _Nerevarine, _to be the conduit through which Azura's vengeance is done. Is it not your place as Nerevarine to question why this is or to seek ways to subvert Azura's will or her desired results."

"I do not wish to prove Azura wrong, Wise Woman. I only wish to know if the harm that is to come can be mitigated."

Again the Wise Woman looked displeased. "Tell me something, Zayden. Are you Thieves Guild, as the Ashkhan suggested?" Zayden nodded. "Can you say with honesty you have done little harm to others in your days before entering the cavern? How many lives, I wonder, have you cheated and extorted? How much suffering you have brought onto others, or allowed to happen? Hearts broken? Futures stolen?

You have the eyes of one who has killed. How exactly did _that _come to pass? Were you purely an innocent? I think not…" Zayden's face shifted to an ashen color. "I smelled much more than merely your vitality in your blood. Once imbibed I saw many whispers of your past. I mention these things not to judge or condemn you, but to help guide you and realize a path forward. You claim to want to do as little harm as possible, but have for years already led a criminal life and actively brought harm upon others. Did you not think you were doing harm then? Or was the harm you did for 'a greater good?'"

"Do you think me a fool, then, to want to do less harm now, when so much more is at stake?"

"I think you are a fool for now trying to act like something you are not. You are Thieves Guild, trained and learned. This is what you know, how you think, and how you conduct yourself. It is foolish to now try to act like a noble, selfless hero."

"Should the Nerevarine not be noble and selfless? Would the Dunmer accept a thief as their savior?"

"My people already _have_, for many centuries past and many times over, though one may never know it. History often looks back favorably upon people of great accomplishments, be the people good of character or not. Great deeds are remembered for eternity, but what is often forgotten are the lurid details surrounding said deeds. My guidance to you, Nerevarine, is do not concern yourself with how you perceive yourself or how others will perceive you, for such things will largely be forgotten to time. Instead focus on who Zayden is, where his strengths lie, and how they may be utilized to fulfill the prophecy."

Zayden looked down into the smoldering embers between he and the old Dunmer and pondered her words. "Villany will be my path to heroism, then?" he mused half-jokingly. But when Zayden looked back up the Wise Woman seemed to nod in agreement. "I see… I will consider your wisdom, Wise Woman. Thank you… If I may, I wish to return to my companions."

"Seek me whenever you have more questions, Nerevarine. Until we next speak."

Zayden brought himself back to his feet and gave Nibani Maesa a deep bow before leaving the yurt. One of the Ashkhan's warriors was still waiting outside and led the Nerevarine across the camp to another yurt where his company was staying.

The company's new quarters were of regular yurt size and spacious enough for the whole group. Hui, Jeed-Ei, and Zeela turned to greet Zayden, they all sitting around the central fire pit as a small, half-naked Dunmer girl attended to them. This was no doubt the slave the Ashkhan promised. The two Argonians had white face paint adorning them and the girl was in the midst of applying Zeela's. The warrior promptly excused himself and left, Zayden taking an empty spot around the fire.

"The girl says," said Zeela, "these markings she's giving us will identify us as honored peoples within the camp." No sooner than she Zeela said this the girl finished applying her paint and shifted over to apply Zayden's.

"My name is Kausha," said the girl. "I have been assigned by the Ashkhan to attend you, Master Nerevarine, and your party for your stay within Urshilaku Camp and beyond. Please, Sir, do not hesitate to use me however you wish." Zayden was already feeling uncomfortable about this arrangement. He looked to the Argonians and saw the understandable disapproval in their eyes. Zeela, by contrast, seemed perfectly comfortable in the moment.

"What if I refuse your services?" asked Zayden to the girl.

"If you no longer desire me, you may dispose of me however you wish. My body and life are yours to do with as you please."

"So if I tell you to get lost-?"

"The Ashkhan will dispose of me instead."

"... Fine," he relented with a heavy sigh. "Then, I don't know, serve us something to drink and then s-sit in a corner or something!" The girl acted immediately once she finished Zayden's face paint and began warming sujamma in a kettle. Zayden fumbled for a cigar and Zeela was quick to notice his current state. She asked what he and the Wise Woman discussed and Zayden reiterated her advice. To Zayden's surprise both Zeela _and_ Hui seemed to understand and agree with her logic.

"Amongst the Argonians," Hui would explain, "those born under the sign of the Shadow are trained from birth to become members of the Dark Brotherhood. Many of those who live into adulthood directly serve the King of Black Marsh. They are considered heroes to my people, even as the murders and killers they were raised to be."

"And there exist many dubious heroes within Dunmeri culture as well," Zeela added. "I agree with Nibani Maesa. You've been taught and trained to be a thief- thanks to yours truly- and there is no sense in believing you are anything else. You are a good man at heart, Zayden, but you must also embrace darkness to succeed as the Nerevarine. It is that way of the Dunmer; to embrace life's light and shadow, for life is a challenge to overcome by any means possible. Just remember to what end you work toward and you will not lose your way."

Zayden grinned. "Maybe you should become a Wise Woman yourself," he said. "You speak in less riddles than she. I knew marrying you was a good idea."

The company spent the remainder of that afternoon within the yurt resting their bodies and preparing for this evening's ceremony. The slave-girl Kausha attended to the four with the obedience of a domesticated dog, barely allowing anyone to so much as lift a finger for themselves. She attended to and served her new masters without question or hesitation, something none but Zeela could fully bring themselves to get used to.

As the sun set that day another warrior came to the Nerevarine's yurt to escort he and his company to the wedding ceremony of Caius Cosades and Senipu. Everyone was brought beyond the outskirts of the camp to an old, bare tree standing alone. Members of the bride's family had already gathered and all were eager to greet the Nerevarine. Under the tree stood a shaman, Sul-Matuul, and Nibani Maesa. Several minutes after the Nerevarine's arrival the shaman called the ceremony to begin.

From the dark of the night appeared the husband and bride, both dressed in white silk robes, who with linked hands approached the tree and stood before the shaman. The bride, Senipu, was a very short woman whose head only reached to the height of Caius's armpit. This combined with her youthful appearance made Zayden believe she was still a child, despite what the Wise Woman stated. Her hair was braided into one wide ponytail that hung all the way down to her knees, further adorned with pink flowers and white shells.

The ceremony itself was brief but meaningful. In the dusk hour of Azura, Caius and Senipu bonded their souls together with matrimonial vows. When the two were declared husband and wife Caius nearly hurt his back bending over to kiss his bride. A guar, saddled with supplies, was then presented to them, the two mounted, and they went off into the darkening evening. None of Zayden's party, himself included, found themself without dry eyes.

A small reception was held thereafter but that too was brief, a larger celebration intended for when the married couple returned. When the party returned to their yurt the slave girl was fast asleep, prompting everyone to do the same. The next morning the yurt was served a breakfast of cooked slaughterfish, the main staple of the Urshilaku's diet. Zayden ate light and prepared himself mentally for his fight with the Ashkhan.

At around noon the party was escorted from their yurt to one of the camp's larger covered pavilions where a quick fighting ring was constructed. It had originally been the slave pavilion but they all had been moved and placed into the stables with the guar. Zayden objected to this but regrettably found himself in no position, even as the Nerevarine, to do so. A large crowd of onlookers had already gathered and the Ashkhan, Sul-Matuul, had already prepared himself for the duel. His was stripped to nothing but a simple cloth wrapped around his waist and his body from head to toe was adorned with war paint. Zayden was quickly rendered to the same and both were given dulled practice versions of the Ashlanders' unique short spear, a three-foot long weapon whose blade made up nearly half its length, as well as a guar-skin shield.

The duel took place in ten minute bouts with five minutes in between each for rest. The bouts would continue just as the Ashkhan stated they would; indefinitely, until one combatant could no longer stand. The two exchanged bows and took their places at opposite ends of the fighting ring before it finally commenced.

The duel went on for seven bouts before either one of the fighters hinted at fatigue. The wins and losses were distributed almost evenly, Sul-Matuul taking a slight lead. They pressed on for bout after bout, hour after hour, until five hours eventually came and went. By that time the two were pouring sweat from every inch of their bodies, their paint mixing and washing off into a muddy mess. But the two kept going, again and again, with no one taking any significant lead.

It was not until twenty-eight bouts and six hours of fighting passed that a true winner was declared. It was during the twenty-ninth round that Zayden, making a quick glance at the crowd surrounding the ring, saw that Caius and his new wife had already returned. Sul-Matuul jumped on this moment to deliver a strong strike to Zayden's left knee that brought the Imperial crumbling onto his back. Sul-Matuul asked if the Nerevarine would yield and Zayden agreed, declaring the Ashkhan the greater warrior.

The crowd erupted into applause as Sul-Matuul helped Zayden back to his feet, the two then shaking hands. The Nerevarine's appointed slave rushed over immediately and served both he and the Ashkhan water and towels to wipe their bodies down with. "Fine fighting, Nerevarine," the Ashkhan commended, "despite you being a thief."

"I have my wife to thank for that as well," Zayden laughed.

"You got distracted, though. What happened?"

"I thought I saw- I did!" Zayden pointed to the crowd where Caius and Senipu stood, the two already engaging in conversation with Zeela, Hui, and Nibani Maesa. "Caius has already returned?"

"Hmm, indeed," said the Dunmer, just as surprised. The two approached the old man as the crowd began to dissipate out of the pavilion. "You've returned, Caius! And so soon! Am I to assume all went well?"

"Yes…" said Caius, oddly sheepishly. Both men looked to the tiny Senipu and saw she was acting quite similarly to Caius.

"Does this mean the marriage has been…?"

"Ashkhan," the Wise Woman interrupted. "That is a private matter that does not concern you."

"Y-Yes, Nibani. Forgive me. I shall depart, then. Until next we meet, Nerevarine and friends. Congratulations, Caius and Senipu." Now quite humiliated, the Ashkhan excused himself and took his leave. Caius invited and led everyone else to his and Senipu's new home, another yurt near the coast. The group shared in tea and pipe weed that Caius smoked from a long-stemmed churchwarden, a common pipe amongst the Ashlanders. Zayden and Hui, expressing their interest in pipe smoking, received a quick lesson on the art.

Now in private Caius revealed- in as polite a way he could- that indeed his and Senipu's marriage was already consummated. While everyone was elated for him, Zayden and Zeela (the latter more intensely) were at the same time crestfallen. They knew they would have to leave Urshilaku soon and Caius would no longer be traveling with them. They were both leaving a friend behind, for Zeela one she had known for decades and for Zayden one that was the first to give him a chance at freedom upon first arriving in Vvardenfell. For Caius's safety they knew this had to be done but it didn't make their sense of loss any softer.

Zeela began talking to Senipu directly, asking her opinion of this sudden arrangement with Caius, also in the most polite way possible. The girl was quick to answer in the positive. "I was nervous when I was first told I was to be married to an outsider. But my great-grandmother reassured me that he was, in his own way, an ally to my people and that he would bring us the Nerevarine. I only looked upon him for the first time shortly before our wedding ceremony. Again I grew nervous. But once we had ventured into the wilderness and settled down into a spot for the night he made a fire, we sat next to each other by it, and we began talking for what ended up being hours.

We spoke at great length and laid bare our pasts, our desires for the future, and many of our secrets. When all was said and done there remained little mystery between us and we both knew deep in our hearts we would be happy together. I am proud to wed and bear the children of such a good friend and ally to the Nerevarine, Wife-of-Zayden. I consider it an honor."

"I see…" said Zeela, awe-struck by her devotion and sincerity. "It seems you're in good hands then, old man. I have nothing to worry about."

"I know you're heartbroken to see me go," said Caius to Zeela, "after all the years we've known each other. To you as well, Zayden. But my role as Spymaster in Vvardenfell is done and over with now, and for my own safety-"

"Caius," said Zayden. "We all understand. You need not convince us any further."

"Yes, of course… I never imagined it would end quite this way, and Divines know I have the lion's share of things to regret… But I'm fortunate to have found the Nerevarine now and the way I did. The Urshilaku have been generous and hospitable, and now I have a new life to live for, for what remaining years I have." Caius and Senipu shared a quick smile and the connection between the two was strong and clear to everyone else in the room.

"We'll be in Urshilaku for another day before we head off for Ahemmusa," said Zayden. "We can spend the day however you wish. And beyond that we will be sure to visit when possible."

The Nerevarine and his company spend much of the remainder of the day within Caius's yurt, Kausha and Senipu preparing a quick and light meal before dusk and before the true festivities began. Once again during Azura's hour a true reception was held near the camp's center, a celebration of the Tribe for the marriage of the Wise Woman's great-granddaughter. The occasion spread out and consumed much of the camp's spirit. Much of the evening for the Nerevarine and his company was spent feasting on new and interesting foods, wines, and further practice on the art of pipe smoking.

The next day was largely spent resting from the previous night's festivities. A late breakfast of slaughterfish and saltrice was served and the afternoon was spent walking the length of Urshilaku Camp an uncounted number of times, Zayden in particular taking in the world around him and the people that lived in it. Many natives would stop, nod, and give their respects to the Nerevarine and the newly weds as they passed. It imprinted on Zayden further that these people, just like the people of wider Vvardenfell, Morrowind, and Tamriel depended on him to do as the prophecy foretold. Their safety and that of countless generations afterward depended on him.

Much of the company's walking was filled with Caius and Zeela recounting story after story the two shared in the time before Zayden arrived in Vvardenfell, each telling more amusing than the last. Before anyone realized it dusk had fallen again and everyone returned to their respective yurts to rest.

The Nerevarine and company woke before dawn of the next day to collect their gear and retrieve their guar from the stables. Caius and Senipu, Nibani Maesa, and Sul-Matuul all awoke early as well to see the company off. They met near the eastern outskirts of the camp and everyone gave heartfelt farewells between themselves. Zeela was easily the most reluctant to leave Caius, even after her long afternoon the previous day. Caius's parting gift to the company was to let them keep the pack-guar, stating he had no further use for it. Kausha immediately climbed atop it, reminding Zayden that she was indeed his slave _beyond_ Urshilaku Camp as well. Whether he like it or not, she was his property now and his responsibility.

Nibani Maesa, as a final gift to and a token of Tribe Urshilaku's endorsement of him as the Nerevarine, gave Zayden a necklace- the "Teeth of The Urshilaku"- a wooden star made from twisted tree roots with a red ruby set in its middle. With final parting goodbyes the small caravan began heading east.


End file.
